Freedom Love
by icings
Summary: Mary Margaret has always felt a tiny part of Snow buried inside her. That side of her will now make her fight for what she wants most.
1. Prologue: Freedom Love

**_Disclaimer: I most definitely do not own Once Upon a Time or its characters. If I did, I wouldn't be going crazy wondering what's going to happen next with Snow/Mary and Charming/David._**

**Freedom Love**

_Maybe all I've ever wanted is something to believe in. Like what? You. Me. And everything that we could be together. _

Ever since Mary Margaret Blanchard could remember - and wasn't it odd how difficult it was to determine how long 'ever' really was - she would occasionally get a rather disjointed feeling. She would feel, usually at her weakest moments, that there was something so very wrong about how she was behaving. As strange as she most definitely knew it was, it was as though she had another personality, buried deep within herself, that was most unamused whenever she were to act overly meekly. There was a part of her that wanted to strike back, to stand up for herself, but that little part never quite made it into action.

Mary knew that these thoughts didn't make any sense, and so she never did share them with anyone. No one knew that every once in awhile, Mary Margaret would get the feeling that nothing was right at all. And this was enough to make Mary feel very lonely indeed.

Fortunately, such moments of disjointedness didn't occur particularly often, certainly rarely enough that she could almost ignore their occurrence completely.

That is, until Mary Margaret Blanchard came to meet David Nolan.

And this odd other side of her would no longer stay properly buried within.

_**Author's note: I haven't published any fan fiction for a very long time, so I'm incredibly nervous about this, but this is just one idea that wouldn't leave me alone. I hope you'll come to enjoy it.**_


	2. Not Letting Go

**Chapter One: Not Letting Go**

The feeling was utterly familiar, but different than she had ever experienced it before. Harder, and infinitely more painful. She had always felt so lonely. _Always_.

It had gotten better lately though, with Emma making her feel like she just might have a real home to go to at the end of a day. And David... David had inspired in her a longing that felt so strikingly, oddly familiar, given that she was so sure that she had never wanted anyone like this before. It was was wrong, so wrong to feel this way, she knew that, but somehow she couldn't quite feel it. The confusing familiarity of her feelings for David made her hopeful, and that hope carried her to the Toll Bridge to meet David despite her misgivings about what she was doing. She didn't want to hurt that other woman - Kathryn - but if David truly felt the way he said he did, then it would surely be more hurtful to Kathryn if he stayed with her. She owed to all of them, really, to at least hear David out, to find out what he had to say, and to give happiness a chance.

Mary Margaret considered all of this, while waiting for David by the Toll Bridge that night; weighing what she felt for David against her desire to do the right thing. More than once, she considered turning around and walking right back home. The third time she'd just convinced herself to stay, David came jogging up to her, very nearly late, and she knew what he was going to say before he said it.

He remembered.

And how odd that the first thing she should feel when he said that was an incredible joy, before realizing that he didn't remember her - and how could he, there wasn't anything between them before his accident to remember - but remembered Kathryn, remembered his life with his wife, the wife he had been going to walk away from.

He wasn't picking her. He was picking his wife.

She had always felt lonely, knew loneliness as being as big of a part of her as her teaching; but this was different. This was heartbreaking, because she had dared to hope for just a second that she wasn't going to be alone anymore.

And he was reaching for her, telling her how sorry he was, and she was pulling away with some crap about it not being meant to be, and this just wasn't meant to happen this way.

"No, you know what, no."

Mary Margaret turned back to David, not entirely sure what had taken over her, and smirked - smirked! - at the stunned silent look on his annoyingly perfect face.

"I'm sorry?"

Mary wasn't sure what was happening inside her own head, but she suddenly knew without a doubt that she couldn't let it end this way. She had nothing at all against Kathryn, who seemed to be a perfectly lovely woman, but Mary was suddenly quite positive that David was meant to be _her_ happy ending.

"You just told me not to tell you it's one sided. It's not. It's not remotely one sided, because we both feel it, feel more than we'd imagined possible, more than makes sense, and David, I don't know what this is, but we owe it more than to end it like this."

There was a light in his eyes that he seemed to be trying to fight, and at that, Mary knew that this is what they both wanted. He couldn't act on it right now - he wouldn't be him otherwise - and so that left it to her to act for both of them.

"Mary... I don't, I never wanted to hurt you - please believe that - but I can't do this to Kathryn, I made a commitment to her once, and despite how I feel, you know I have to..."

"Honour that? Yes, I know that. You're an honourable man, David. I haven't known you for long, but I know that about you. You're such a good man, and you're going to do what you think is right. I know what."

There was an excitement that filled Mary now, one that she felt both strangely removed from, and utterly connected to. Finally, finally, Mary knew what *she* was meant to do. David was going to do what he needed to do, but she had to do the same. For once in her life, she needed to do what was right for her. _I need to fight for him. _

"So we're uh... we're okay then?"

Mary smiled then, bigger, more coyly than he had ever seen her do before, and David felt his heart stutter in longing.

"Oh, no, we're not okay. Not yet. But we will be. You'll do what you think is right, David, and I admire that about you. So if I want to be a person that I respect... well, I need to do what I think is right too."

"And that is?"

Mary Margaret walked up to David, her gait more confident than either of them could remember it being before. She put her hands on either side of his face, and with his hands quickly wrapping around her wrists in reply - to pull her away or urge her closer, neither was sure - and kissed him. Quickly. Lightly. Lasting no longer than a second, but long enough for both to know that it wasn't nearly enough. She pulled back and smiled at David, shining with her delight in the moment, and whispered to him.

"I'm going to fight for you, David. I'm going to fight for us."

And then she kissed him again, firmer this time though just as quick, and she delighted in feeling that he - without realizing it perhaps - had kissed her back. It was Mary Margaret who pulled away first, quite certain that she'd made her point most effectively, and she turned to walk away, ignoring, for now, how desperately she wished she could stay. Just when she was almost out of earshot, she glanced back at David - still frozen still; shock, confusion and longing written all over his face - and smiled at him one more time.

"Have a good night, David."

He smiled too, and though still slightly dazed, it was that half smile of his that she was positive belonged only to her. "Yeah, you too. Mary Margaret."

Turning away from him again, she walked away. Halfway home, she laughed to herself. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing, only knowing that it was finally what was right - maybe not for everyone, but for her. And, she thought with conviction, for him too. _He belongs with me_. They'd be together someday. She'd find a way. What was it she'd said to Emma, not long ago? _Believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing_.

She walked the rest of the way home smiling.


	3. Eye and the Storm

**Chapter Two: Eye and the Storm**

A quick stop to Granny's had been required on Mary's way home, as though Mary was not particularly experienced in the art of plotting how to make someone fall in love with you, she figured a snack to provide fuel was always a good place to start. A couple of Granny's fantastic cinnamon rolls would certainly do - those things were Food of the Gods and could be sold in franchises the world over, or so she and Emma constantly tried telling the older woman. She considered sitting down to enjoy one right there, when a smirking Dr. Whale came walking through the door. She quickly determined that having the immediate satisfaction of her treat then and there wasn't quite worth the discomfort of sitting through the upcoming show a second time (Ruby was wearing her usual Whale drool inducing outfit), and took her box of cinnamon rolls to go.

It was easy after that to talk herself into a lazy night, and she changed into her comfiest clothes immediately after arriving home, wrapped herself into a blanket, and sat down on her couch with a glass of warm milk and her snack (what was that about Food of the Gods?). It had been some time since Mary had last felt quite this content, and she could feel herself easily slipping into a daydream about David, about what life could be like once they were finally together.

_Her belly was rounded underneath her stunning white nightgown, and she could feel the baby moving below her hand. Brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes - _lord was it long, when had she grown it out so?_ - she smiled at David as he walked into the room, carrying a tray loaded with what was sure to be a most nutritious breakfast; the overprotective husband having quickly become an extraordinarily overprotective father. As she basked in the warmth of the sunlight pouring in from their terrace doors, David appeared thrilled at the relaxation on her face. She had been too tense, too long. Placing the tray down on a dresser, he walked over to her purposefully, wrapped his arms around her, and lowered his head to - _

Emma came exploding into their apartment like some kind of natural disaster, beautiful chaos (and wasn't that just the perfect descriptor for her fiery roommate), startling Mary from her daydream. Blinking the sleepiness (and regret - things had just been getting good!) from her eyes, Mary turned to stare at her roommate. Deeply aware of the previous history - and continued possibility - of her possessions bearing the brunt of the blonde's anger, Mary carefully, and with a studied air of casualness asked, "Rough night?"

Emma spun - quite literally - in a perfect circle, before coming to face Mary once more, and Mary finally realized that Emma hadn't even been aware she wasn't alone, such was her rage at... something. More than that, Emma would have come home under the impression that Mary was going to be out with -

Emma's voice was like ice as she questioned "Why are you here? What. Did. _He_. Do?"

Mary attempted some quick thinking. _Tried to pick his wife over me, and in a completely out of character move, I informed him that I wasn't going to let him, then kissed the guy silent and that was fantastic and now I feel like I can't be without him so I'm going to have to make him fall for me sometime super soon; and how was your night? _It just didn't go very well. "Uh..."

"Men!" Emma yelled, and the word was a curse coming from her lips. "_He_ picked _her _didn't he?"

"Well, yes, but you see -"

"Men!" Emma shouted again, "Useless, arrogant creatures, the whole lot of them. They make you think things, they make you feel things, and just when you think you may have a shot at that whole happy thing, there's someone else. Of course there is. There always is. Because happy? Is a load of crap that they trick the people who deserve it most, into believing in just for a second, before shooting that to hell."

"Emma!"

"What, Mary? It's true. That _man_ followed you around town like a cute lost little puppy, making cute lost little puppy dog eyes at you until you started to weaken just a little bit, and then he goes all, 'oh I think I'll just stay with my wife now'. Not the adorable freaking puppy anymore. And God, I told you to go for it. I'm such an idiot. Major, major idiot."

Mary drew in a breath. As irritated as Emma was on her behalf, there was clearly something far more than that bothering the roommate that she had come to care for so deeply. Emma had been hurt. And Mary Margaret felt ready to tear whoever was responsible to shreds - a burning anger that she could not remember having ever experienced before.

"Em. What happened, honey?"

Mary's voice, so sympathetic, so caring - like family should be - was just what was needed for the fight to go right out of Emma. She crumbled onto the couch beside Mary, and Mary's arms were around her before she could blink. Emma knew that she had never, ever been held like this before, but she wasn't going to reject the feeling of warmth and safety that came of it. She rested her head on Mary's shoulder, fought back the tears (she was _not_ going to cry for that _man_), and muttered under her breath, "Graham's sleeping with that witch."

Needing no explanation of who their local witch was, Mary groaned, horrified. Now that was a mental image her brain would be permanently scarred by; and judging her roommate's emotional response, Emma shared the sentiment ten-fold. Sure that nothing she could say would help at this point - she suspected that Emma had stronger feelings for her boss than she had admitted even to herself - she simply rubbed Emma's back, and waited for her to continue, somehow knowing that there was more.

Emma cleared her throat. "And they do it with my son in the house."

"Oh God," Mary winced, knowing that it's this additional fact that is really torturing Emma. The fact that she had claimed Henry as hers made this clearer than anything else Emma could have said.

"I just... look, Graham's a grown man, and he can make his own choices, gross as they might be. They can do it all they want, I don't care -" Lies. "But not while Henry's home. Not if he gets sick or something, and needs his... needs Regina -" She could no longer bring herself to think of, let alone speak of Regina as Henry's mother. "And she's off in her room with him, and it's disgusting, and I want to rip both of their heads off for doing something that could damage him even more if he were to ever find out about it."

Mary gently smiled at Emma. She was such a Mama Bear when it came to Henry, and didn't even know it. It filled Mary with pride to see the change that the boy was bringing in the woman.

"He's just so innocent," Emma continued, "Almost naively so, and I'd hate to see anything rob him of his innocence. It already seems as though Regina's largely robbed him of much of a childhood. And I didn't want this for him. I gave him up so he could have better than what I could give him. And I come here, and I find myself thinking of him as _mine_ again, but he's not. He's Regina's, and I hate it, and as pathetic as I know it is, I hate knowing that Graham is hers too."

"I know." Mary nudged Emma back into a sitting position, so that she could look her in her eyes when she spoke to her. "But Emma? If it helps... I don't think Henry thinks of himself as Regina's."

Emma looked down for just a second to collect herself, but was able to look Mary in the eye to answer her, "That may be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Mary smiled back at her. "Then I'm honoured to have said it."

Feeling much calmer than she had all night, Emma felt as though she could finally focus entirely on Mary. "So, Mar... are you going to tell me what happened, now that you can get a word in?"

"He remembered his wife. I don't really know what happened. This morning, he didn't have any memory, any feelings at all for Kathryn, and tonight, he tells me that he remembers her, and that he has to honour that."

Emma sighed, "I don't think I've ever wished that a man wasn't honourable before."

Unable to help laughing at her roommate, Mary swatted Emma on the arm. "Yes, he's a good man. Really good man. Tried to comfort me and all of that."

"Tried?" Emma smirked, "Oh, I hope you just walked away from him."

"I thought about it. Actually, I was going to do exactly that. And then something - I still don't know what - came over me. I felt suddenly like I had this complete other personality, and I thought 'screw that', and informed him that I was going to fight for him." She watched with satisfaction then, as Emma's jaw promptly dropped.

"You... what?"

Mary raised an eyebrow, considering. "You look a lot like he did, actually. And we haven't even got to the part where I kissed him yet."

"You kissed him?"

"It was accidental!"

"How is a kiss 'accidental'? Did you _fall_ onto his lips?"

"Okay, so it was intentional, but I didn't mean to do it! Well I did... but I didn't set out meaning to do it! It just sort of happened. Except I made it happen. Accidentally. Intentionally. It was accidental-intentional!"

"Accidental-intentional? Is that even a thing?"

"I don't know, it's what it was! I think... You're confusing me!"

"_I'm_ confusing _you_?"

Both women found themselves laughing hysterically at this point, and it was a balm to both of their still slightly hurt souls.

Emma caught her breath first. "Really though, who are you and what did you do with Mary Margaret?"

Mary rolled her eyes at her friend. "Emmaaaa..."

"I'm serious! Oh God, I let strange alien-person Mary comfort me! Hey!" Emma pouted as Mary sent a couch pillow flying into her head.

"You deserved it," Mary smirked. "And as for me and David... I don't really know what happened, what came over me. I just knew I couldn't let it end this way - heck, I don't think I could let it end at all. It doesn't make any real sense, but we feel connected somehow. And I can't let that connection go. He has to do the right thing, the honourable thing for Kathryn. And I have to do what feels right for us. I'll fight hard enough for both of us, until he's ready to fight with me."

Emma exhaled, "Wow. You're really going to do this."

"I am." Mary sucked in a breath, "Do you think I'm a horrible person for it?"

"What I think," Emma carefully gathered her thoughts, "Is that if it weren't for my kid, you'd pretty much be my favourite person that I know. And I don't like horrible people. You are good, you are kind, you care about people, even the wife of the man you're falling for. But Mary? You're also a romantic, and having an adorable, charming man with little lost puppy tendencies chasing you around for a couple weeks is enough to make any romantic want to give the fairy tale a chance."

"Am I just a sucker then?"

"No," Emma murmured, "No, you're not. Because I've seen the way he looks at you when you're not paying attention. Like... you're everything he could ever want. Women everywhere would kill for someone to look at them the way he watches you."

Mary's face was a bright shade of pink. "So you... you think I'm right to go for it?"

Emma grinned, "Oh, Mary. Yes. And I am so on Team You."

Mary smiled back. "Okay then. Commence Operation 'True Love'. I'm stealing the idea from Henry. Speaking of whom... you're now in on a lot of Operations."

"It's cool, it makes me feel badass. Also like I've got people who matter." Not wanting to dwell on that wistful thought, Emma continued, "So what's the plan?"

Mary bit her lip. "I have no idea. I've never been conniving and devious before. This other side of me only got to the part of announcing that I'm going to fight for him, kissing him silent, and a lot of smirking. I've never really smirked a lot before tonight. But suddenly it feels like everything is worth being amused by... smirk-worthy. But yeah, no plan, not smirk-worthy."

Emma gaped at her friend. "So we have no ideas."

"Not a one. Not yet anyway."

"But you announced to him that you were going to fight for him?"

"Yes." Mary raised an eyebrow. "Gee, I hope he's not expecting anything elaborate."

Emma cracked up.

The two of them would stay up late into the night, laughing and plotting; eating more of Granny's cinnamon rolls than was probably healthy; and rejoicing in the relaxed comfort of knowing they had a home.

And when Mary finally went to bed, she dreamt of him.

_**Author's Note: Okay, so I am thrilled by the number of people who I can see have been reading the beginning of this story. The knowledge that people all over the world are reading something I'm writing is so freaking cool to me. But as much as I can tell that people are reading this story, I can't really tell if people are enjoying it. So as much as I hate to beg for reviews, please do let me know if you're enjoying it, so I can tell if it's worth continuing. I'm really excited about this story and where I could take it. I hope you are too! Please do let me know if you are; or if you have any suggestions as to how it could be better, or wishes as to where it could go. I'm inspired by this fandom every time I come on this website - your encouragement would mean the world to me. Thank you!**_


	4. Cinnamon Hearts

**Chapter Three: Cinnamon Hearts**

It was terrible, given that he had promised to give his marriage to her a chance; but David often found himself drifting when Kathryn was talking to him. She rarely noticed; happy to chatter at him from her little bubble, regardless of the lack of any real response. On the occasion that she did pick up on the one-sidedness of her conversations, she'd be quick to blame his accident - recovering amnesiac and all, a lack of attentiveness was to be expected. She never, not really, questioned what it was that distracted her husband so.

He felt as though this probably wasn't a ringing endorsement of their marriage, past or present.

The fact that his drifting often led his mind straight to another woman, probably wasn't such a good thing either. He would try not to think of her; but as those things tend to go, trying not to only led him to thinking about her more. David found himself constantly imagining how Mary Margaret might go about carrying out her promise to fight for him. It frightened him how often she was successful in these musings.

He and her promise to fight for him are far from the first thing on Mary's mind right now, he knows without question. The town's sheriff had died in her roommate's arms, and he somehow knows that Emma, for all her tough exterior, was not handling it well. He also knows that Mary's taking care of her. He'd seen it for himself. And it wasn't remotely appropriate, but seeing what Mary Margaret was like with her mourning friend made him long for her all the more.

_He'd been on a walk with Kathryn, following his wife silently as she pointed out all the landmarks in town that should now have some significance to him, as he'd gained some memories back. Some of the things she breathlessly described - the park where they'd once had a picnic, the restaurant where he'd proposed - brought a hazy sort of memory to mind, but the memories floated away easier than they came more often than not. It agonized him that the one memory he'd managed to get a grip on was of a windmill that he'd not been able to stand - what in the world was significant about a freaking windmill? Aside from the fact that it was one of the few things David Nolan today had in common with the David Nolan that Kathryn kept telling him about. Both versions of him hated the stupid thing. _

_He'd see the look of disappointment on Kathryn's face before she could hide it every single time that he stared blankly at something that was supposed to mean so much to him. He'd hated himself just a little bit more every time. He could not stand the idea of hurting anyone; so how was it that he managed to hurt two women over and over again? _

_Kathryn had just been pointing out to him the store where they had apparently bought half the furniture in their house, when the ambulance went racing by, lights and siren in full effect. David would later swear he had felt his heart drop into his stomach, and jump right back up into his throat, as both he and Kathryn watched the ambulance pull over next to the Sheriff's office. _Emma_ was his only terrified, disjointed, non-sensical thought. Something happened to Mary's roommate, Mary's rock. Something happened to Emma. And Mary would not be okay. Not after everything else. Not after what he'd done to her. She couldn't lose Emma. _

_He was racing after the paramedics before Kathryn could stop him. _

_What he saw once he ran in froze him in place. The paramedics were working tirelessly over a body, but not the one he'd been expecting. The sheriff - Graham - was the one who was being fought for. Emma was sitting in a corner of the room, staring at, or right through, Graham, quite plainly in shock. _Emma wasn't hurt. Just broken.

_A powerful urge to protect her, to make everything better for her somehow overtook him then, and he walked over to the blonde. He sat down with her, grabbed her hands, and called her name. She glanced at him quickly, skittishly, like someone who was desperately trying to build a wall around herself with bricks that had just tumbled to the ground before her. "I don't understand what happened," she whispered, and he could hear the terror in it. _

"_The paramedics might still be able to save him." _

"_No," Emma gasped, "No. They're not going to be able to bring him back. I tried, I tried forever until they showed up, but it's not... I felt it... his heart's just gone."_

"_His heart stopped?" _

"_Gone. Just gone. Gone." _

_She would say no more after that, and David, bewildered at what Emma was telling him, knew that she would need more help than he could give her, especially if she was correct that it was too late for the Sheriff. He walked away from Emma, just by a few feet, keeping one eye on her all the while, and pulled out his cell phone, dialing a number that he shouldn't have had memorized, but did anyway. _

"_Hello?" _

"_Mary. It's David. I'm at the Sheriff's office. Something's happened to Graham. Emma needs you." _

_He couldn't remember appreciating Mary more, than when she required no further explanation than that to say "I'll be right there." He went right back to sitting next to Emma after hanging up the phone. _

_Mary came racing in a surprisingly short few minutes later; heading straight for Emma without even needing to look around for her after entering; knowing, feeling where the woman who needed her was. Her arms had just wrapped around Emma, her eyes widened in shock as she glanced at the paramedics working - no, now pulling away from Graham, the frustration and agony of failure in their eyes. _

_As the paramedics declared their town's brave Sheriff dead at the scene, and his Deputy turned to stone between them, Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan could only stare at each other. _

"David?" Kathryn asked, always so gently - as though she feared he was a bomb waiting to go off. He hated that. "David? Are you alright? You don't look okay."

He rubbed his face, still caught in the grips of the memory of that night; the night that had continued to define his every thought since. _No. Not alright. Emma wasn't, and so Mary wasn't, and if they weren't, he definitely wasn't. _"I, uh..."

The hope, as ever, lit up Kathryn's eyes before she could temper it. Constant disappointment never kept her from hoping, from asking. "Are you remembering something?"

"No," he responded, barely able to keep the temper out of his voice. "No, I'm sorry, I'm not. I was just... I was thinking that I need to go for a walk."

"You've been going off on your own so much lately. I don't understand..."

"I saw the Sheriff die, Kathryn." The sharpness of his tone was plain even to his own ear. "I watched one of the people who _saved my life_ fall apart. Sometimes I need to go clear my head."

"I know that must have been a terrible night for you. It's just... It's been a week, David."

The inherent selfishness of this simple statement disgusted him more than he would have imagined possible.

"I'll be sure to make sure to clear it with your schedule first the next time I feel the need to help someone then."

Kathryn blanched. "You know I didn't mean it like that, David. It came out wrong, I know that was a horrible thing to say."

"It was," he agreed, "But I think you meant it exactly as it came out."

He barely refrained from slamming the door behind him.

_Emma was staring into nothing. Mary was watching her. And David couldn't take his eyes off of the pair of them. Something about the way they sat together, silently, Emma's head on Mary's shoulder as Mary played with her hair, a plainly soothing gesture that seemed to come from practice - something about it seemed so _right _that he couldn't bring himself to look away. He felt as though he was missing something, some fundamentally significant detail that would change everything, if only he could just figure out what it was. _

_Mary hadn't yet said a word to Emma, only sat with her, a source of quiet comfort while the blonde worked to pull herself back together. She was there for her friend without pushing before Emma was ready, and David found himself amazed by the empathy she showed in doing so. There was nothing Mary could say to Emma that would fix this. Most people didn't understand that, hell, he hadn't immediately realized that himself. But Mary knew, Mary understood. _

_She seemed infinite to him somehow, and though he knew that wasn't quite the right descriptor, it was close as he felt he could get. He wondered what else she knew, what else she understood. He wondered if she would teach him; if that kind of simple _feeling_ for others was something that could be taught, or if it was innate. In her, it seemed inherent to her being. But for him, he thought maybe it was something he could learn, some essence he could emulate so as to not hurt so many people, her - the person who least deserved to be hurt - most of all. _

_They sat silently on the floor together for many more minutes. When it seemed as though the paramedics were going to try to talk to Emma, David backed them off with a single look; marveling at the effectiveness of his own cold stare. Emma wasn't going to say anything until she was damn well ready; and when she was, it would be to Mary, not to people who were aiming to fill out paperwork. He'd make sure of it. He'd protect them both. _

_He started to get up, determining that he should give Emma some space with her roommate, when both women looked up at him. Mary shook her head, certain, and told him to stay there with them. He wasn't sure if Mary's request, or Emma's desperate nod in agreement warmed his heart more. _

_Sitting back down, he watched as Emma swallowed, and knew that she was ready to talk. "This is my fault," she whispered, and he felt a terror that she would think such a thing. _

"_No," Mary murmured gently. "You can't think that. He wouldn't want you to think that." _

"_He was acting so strange. _So strange_. He thought he didn't have a heart, and I should have known, I should have known that he meant something was wrong with it..."_

"_He was healthy, he was young, you couldn't have predicted this." _

"_I should have gotten him to the hospital instead of wasting so much time trying to talk him out of his... I don't know what I thought it was. A hallucination, a delusion, a drunken fit? Who talks about their heart like that unless something was wrong with their heart?" _

"_I saw him today too, he was acting strange then, but I just thought he needed rest. No one could have predicted this." _

"_But when he collapsed, when his heart stopped, I should have done more, I should have reacted faster, I should have done stronger compressions, I shouldn't have gotten tired so quickly." _

"_Em. You did everything you could. I know that." _

"_How could you know that, Mare? You weren't here until he was already gone." _

"_I don't need to have been here. I know you. You would have given everything you had. You're amazing. I know it, and Graham knew it. That's why he picked you to be Deputy. Because you, Emma Swan, are a force to be reckoned with. You did everything you could have; everything that _anyone _could have." _

"_Okay," Emma whispered. _

"_Okay." _

_The officials came over to their little group then, having given them the moments that David had silently requested, and David knew that a glare could not buy them more time for just the three of them. The Sheriff had suddenly dropped dead, and the town would need answers. That the only answers possible could only come from the woman who had only just started pulling herself back together broke his heart just a little bit more. _

"_My name is Jeffrey," one of the men spoke, "And I'm so sorry for your loss, Deputy Swan, but we really need you to answer some questions." _

_Emma looked only at Mary, desperate. _

"_If you're not ready, just tell me," Mary murmured to her, quietly enough so that only Emma and David could hear her. "We'll tell them no, not today. If you're not ready, we'll just go home." _

"_Do you think I can handle it?" _

_Mary smiled at her. "I think you're the strongest person I've ever met. I think you can handle anything. And I'd be right here the whole time." _

_Emma looked to David then, and for reasons that weren't quite clear even to him, it meant the world that she wanted him with her too. "We're not going anywhere, Emma." _

_Emma finally looked back to Jeffrey, looking him clear in the eye. "I'm ready." _

_Emma remained curled into Mary's side, Mary's arm wrapped around her tightly. David sat on Emma's other side, watching every interaction so carefully that he'd almost failed to notice when Emma's free hand cautiously reached toward him. He gripped it as tight as he could without hurting her, telling her without words, that he was so completely there for her. _

_Mary smiled at him over Emma's head. _

_They were connected through her. _

His walk had brought him to the diner, as his wanderings often did. There was a warmth, a comfort to it, and he suspected that had something to do with the other frequent patrons. As he glanced in the window, he saw that Mary and Emma were already there, and Emma was actually smiling at something Mary said. He felt his heart soar at the sight of it.

He was walking in the door without needing to think about it.

_Questioning Emma had taken over an hour and a half, and he still found himself shuddering at the thought of how difficult it must had been for her. He'd walked Emma and Mary home after that, refusing to take no for an answer, and feeling just a little bit lighter at the gratefulness in both their eyes. It had been difficult to leave them at Mary's apartment once they'd reached it. _

_It was late, very late, by the time he'd reached his house - it still didn't feel remotely like a home, and he couldn't bring himself to reference it as such even in his own mind. It dawned on him only then that he'd completely forgotten about Kathryn from the moment he'd seen the ambulance. She must have found her own way home long ago; the lights were off and their bedroom door was shut when he walked inside. He knew she'd be asleep. _

_He told himself it was because he didn't want to disturb her, when he walked into the guest room to get ready for bed. _

_It wasn't, and he knew it. _

_He'd left too much of himself behind at Mary's apartment with her and Emma, to be able to even remotely consider the idea of getting into bed beside another woman. _

_As he fell asleep that night, he found himself again longing for the kindest person he'd ever known, but that wasn't new. What was, was his profound wish that he could be there with Emma, the bravest person he'd ever met. _

"David!"

He felt certain that he would never tire of the way that Mary lit up when she saw him. Nor could he get over the wonderful sense of rightness he felt when Emma smiled at him, waving him over to join them over at their table.

Mary called out to the waitress. "Ruby! Can we get another cinnamon hot chocolate over here?"

David laughed. "Cinnamon? In hot chocolate?"

Emma found herself grinning, and it was a wonderful relief to all three of them. "Oh yeah, you're one of us now, so you have to take your hot chocolate this way now. You're going to love it."

_One of us. _

He already knew he'd love it, even if it was disgusting.

It was delicious. Of course it was.

It was something _they_ loved.

_**Author's Note: Please don't hurt me! I agonized over this chapter, because I know so many of you loved Graham's character, but after thinking about it for ages, I felt like sticking with the show on this one made more sense for this story. I hope further development of David's relationships with Mary AND Emma can help you to forgive me! **_

_**Thank you for the reviews, faves, alerts, and most of all, for reading. I can't tell you how much it means to me every time I get the slightest idea that even one person is enjoying this story. I hope that I can keep making you smile the way you all do for me. **_


	5. Family Ties

**Chapter Four: Family Ties**

It was embarrassing, standing in Storybrooke's little hardware store, pretending that he had the slightest idea of what he was looking at. He felt certain that the store's owner, a short older man with a perpetually amused look was laughing at him whenever he wasn't looking. It was, after all, plainly obvious that he didn't want to be there, didn't really understand why he was there, and wanted quite desperately to leave.

Kathryn wanted new bookshelves, custom-made. And when he nodded along, assuming that they would just pay someone to make some for them - which he felt sure made perfect sense - Kathryn had actually clapped her hands in delight. To his unending horror, she informed him that David (pre-accident version) had been planning on building them these beautiful shelves before their argument; and now that he had agreed to build them one more (_when _had he agreed to this, he wondered pettishly), it was clearly a most wonderful sign that everything was going to get back to normal, at long last. He would regain his memory, he would move back into their room (he had to hide his wince every time Kathryn mentioned that little detail), and they would all live happily ever after. All because of bookshelves.

_Whatever_.

He was trying, he was trying really hard. He wasn't going to magically become the person who Kathryn longed for, the person who she remembered. There wasn't a miracle cure he could provide for her. All he _could_ do was try, and so he went to the damn hardware store, and he stared at the shelves, and he _tried_.

It hurt him every time he could see in Kathryn's eyes that what he was doing wasn't enough. It only made him long for Mary more. The person he was today was enough for Mary.

He shook his head, as if he could literally shrug thoughts of her away. Thinking of another woman constantly wasn't exactly conducive to trying.

But, he thought stubbornly, Kathryn couldn't control his mind; and a man was entitled to think about whatever his mind wandered to. Especially while staring at screwdrivers.

Mary would have come with him, he knew, rather than staying at home, expecting him to figure out how to make what *she* wanted. She would have come, and she would have laughed hysterically at the blank look that he gave everything in the store; would have laughed at his complaining suggestions that they just gave up and ordered something from Ikea. Same difference, he would have said - sarcasm fully intended - and her eye-rolling laughter would have motivated him to keep up the running (and very, very bad) comedy routine until they both were laughing so hard they'd have to leave. They'd have stopped at local antique shop on their way home, and they would have found a bookshelf that they both loved, their mutual taste for simple, timeless, aged pieces having made the decision to forgo making the shelf themselves easy. They would have been to the bookstore, to pick out new copies of the classics to take home on their new shelf... Mary could have stayed in the store for hours, and he would have been happy to let her, delighted by the wonder on her face when surrounded by new stories; but they would have decided to leave when the first clap of thunder sounded in the distance. Both loving to watch storms pass through, they would have made the walk home slowly, until the eery quiet of a coming storm vanished, and the heavens opened. Drenched to the bone, they would have both laughingly blamed each other for their predicament, and he would have chased her home, where they would have fallen into each other's arms, into bed, the moment they opened the door.

He wanted it all so badly he could feel himself shaking.

The store's owner had finally taken pity on David, probably having decided that he had been staring right through the screwdriver display for too long, and he walked over to him with a smile on his face.

David nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt the hand on his shoulder, having in his mind been in a place where the only other person's hands were caught in his own grip above her head.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," the man said, smiling politely, though blandly. "But I couldn't help but notice that you might need a little bit of help?"

David smiled back, having never felt more grateful in his life that people couldn't read minds. "You'll have to forgive my distraction. As you might have been able to tell, I really have no idea what I'm doing."

The kindly gentleman laughed, a big full-belly laugh, the kind that suggested that this was a person who enjoyed nothing more in life than to get caught up in laughter - but, David sensed, hadn't had such reason to laugh in too long. _Life seemed hard here for so many, like it had beaten what made each person an individual right out of them. _

"You'd be amazed how often that's the case, with my customers. But I'm happy to help. My name is Alair. What is it you wanted to work on?"

"Bookshelves," David sighed, unable to even attempt to hide the frustration in his voice. "My uh... my wife has informed me that I want to build some bookshelves. Of course, I have no idea how to build anything because I..."

"Don't remember ever building anything in your life?" Alair asked, and at David's wide eyes, smiled kindly at the younger man. "I read the paper, Mr Nolan. You were something of a local celebrity a couple of months back. We don't get that kind of intrigue around here too often."

David winced, hating the reminder. "Right."

Alair was not the type to ever want to make anyone feel uncomfortable, and moved past the slightly awkward moment quickly. "Well, Mr. Nolan, if you like, I can point you to the materials and tools you'll need to make your shelves, and I can teach you how to make a basic shelf... but somehow I suspect that this is not what you really want?"

Smiling slightly, sheepishly at the other man's understanding, he nodded in agreement. "If it were simple that my wife wanted, I could probably figure out how to throw something together. But simple it's just... not my wife's taste." _Though it was his... and Mary's... and that continued train of thought was not remotely helpful right now. _"I'm just not capable of making what my wife's going to want. Maybe I once was, I don't know, I just know that I'm not anymore. No offense... but handiwork is not really my thing."

Alair grinned easily. "No offense taken. If I may suggest, there's a gentleman in town who I'm sure would be happy to take on the project. The quality of his work is second to none, but he doesn't get nearly as many requests to work as he would like. He'd probably be delighted."

David felt sure that his relief was coming off of him in waves. "Can I get a name and number?" he asked with a conspiring smirk.

"I'm sure you already know of him, most everyone town does know him, though perhaps not his true calling. His name's Marco," he said, grinning at the recognition in David's eyes, "And he's our local mechanic."

The smile came easily to David's face now. "Marco, of course. Thank you so much for your help, Alair. Have a great day."

"You too, Mr. Nolan."

As David walked out the door, he only just managed to keep from skipping.

* * *

><p>Mary was concerned that they'd finally found out how much sugar a boy could handle. Having been at the diner for the last forty-five minutes, she, Henry, and Emma had all enjoyed rather large cinnamon hot chocolates; but also had been serving as taste-testers for Granny, as she had them critique new desserts that she was considering adding to the menu. Henry had reached a point of hyperness that Mary was sure could set records; and she and Emma had just had to very strongly suggest to the boy that attempting to learn a cartwheel in the middle of the diner probably wasn't the best idea. He sat back down with a pout, and immediately went into another spiel about how nice he thought Mary would look if she grew her hair out super-long. It was pretty much impossible to take offense though, when the person doing the critique was a ten year old talking so fast that they could only understand about every seventh word that came out of his mouth.<p>

Emma was laughing though, laughing like she hadn't laughed in weeks, and it was so nice to see. Mary and Henry were both beaming at her mirth, and when the boy turned to her and winked, she began to question if the boy was really as hopped up on sugar as she had thought.

Warm, fond, and all together wonderful adoration for the boy filled her then, and she wondered if this, her caring for Emma and Henry was what family really felt like.

And when David came walking in the door, and she felt her heart quicken, she wondered about that feeling too.

David appeared distracted to her, looking very much like he'd had a rough day, and she realized he was in his own little world, when he walked straight up to the cash to place his order without doing his usual glance over to _their_ booth to see if they were there. She was about to call out an order to Ruby for him, to grab his attention, when he beat her to it.

"Hey, Ruby. Just a cinnamon hot chocolate, please."

The warmth in his eyes when he said it made her suck in a breath. He really did love it then, their little group's drink. She'd feared he'd been humouring them whenever they'd had the drink together in the last week, but there was no questioning that now. He wasn't even aware they were there, but was still ordering _their_ drink, with a easy smile that she dared to hope was related to thoughts of her, thoughts of them.

Ruby nodded over to their booth. "Will that be to go, or will you be staying here with the rest of the cinnamon obsessed?"

His face lit up as he finally noticed them, and Mary softly smiled at him, feeling something like a blushing schoolgirl with a crush. He glanced back at Ruby only long enough to say "Definitely for here. Thanks, Ruby."

He grabbed his drink from the waitress and walked over to their booth, sliding in next to Mary with an easy smile. "Hey," Mary grinned, sure that her happiness at simply being near him shone all over her face.

"Hey," he murmured back. "What's going on over here?" he gestured over at Henry, who was in the midst of showing Emma some kind of head-bopping dance even as he sat, and Emma, who was failing miserably at keeping a straight face.

Sneaking in close to David, and thrilling at his sudden absolute stillness at how close she was, Mary whispered in his ear. "I haven't decided yet if Henry is completely diabolical, or just hopped up on sugar. We've been testing desserts for Granny, so he could just be on a sugar high, but a suspect this is all part of a master plan to make Emma laugh."

Glancing back over at Emma and Henry (looking away from Mary's wide eyes proved to be inordinately difficult), he noted that the boy was now using his knife and fork to drum on the table, putting on his best rock star performance head banging and all, and Emma was cracking up. Turning to Mary again, he whispered back, "I _really_ like that kid."

Mary found herself sighing wistfully. There was something that felt so completely right in this moment, like the four of them were always supposed to be together like this, and it was odd to her that she felt this way. She had come to accept the all-consuming feeling of rightness when she was around David as a fact of her life, though one that still didn't make all that much sense. Emma, well it was completely understandable how much she cared for her roommate now, given all that she'd been through, and that they'd spent so much time together, but what had possessed her to offer a room to Emma in the first place, aside from that consistent feeling that it was the _right thing_? And Henry... she wasn't supposed to play favourites, teachers weren't supposed to have favourite students, but what's supposed to be went right out the window when it came to her feelings. She adored Henry, far more than it was normal for a teacher to adore a student. She felt... almost like an aunt to the boy, though that wasn't quite right. Some part of her, buried inside was so certain that her bond with Henry was familial that she couldn't ignore it.

_Family_, the thought came to mind as though there were a voice in her head screaming it. _They are your _family, _quit questioning it already. _And family, truthfully, was what they felt like. There was no making sense of it. Mary only knew that being near these three people made her happier than she could ever remember feeling before. Perhaps it was just time to embrace that.

Shaking herself from the distraction of her thoughts, she came to notice that David was watching her, looking at her like... how had Emma worded it, all those weeks ago? Like she was everything he could ever want. She found herself shivering in longing, wishing he was hers to just grab and kiss wherever and whenever she wanted (_here, now_). For the last couple of weeks, worrying about Emma had distracted her from any ideas of fighting for David, but Emma seemed to be getting better everyday, thanks to her new role as the town's Sheriff, and her son, and maybe Mary herself had helped a little bit. Emma was strong, and mostly put together again, and worrying about her didn't take up all of Mary's focus anymore. Her thoughts were dominated by the man sitting next to her, and the fact that everything in her wanted to reach up and kiss the scar on his chin.

She _really_ needed to get going on this whole fighting for him thing.

Henry had apparently momentarily run out of ideas for ways that he could make Emma laugh, so to give himself time to ponder, he turned to the others sitting at his table.

"Hi Mr. Nolan!" Henry announced, "I haven't seen you in AGES. What have you been up to? Have you figured out how to use a sword yet?"

Grinning fondly at the boy, David replied, "To you buddy, it's David. I haven't seen you in ages either. I haven't been up to much, just work... and discovering the joys of cinnamon hot chocolate. And I'm afraid I haven't mastered sword-fighting just yet."

"That's okay," Henry brushed the slight disappointment off easily, "We'll work on that." He beamed at the chorus of laughter from what he _knew_ (and they'd eventually understand) was his true family. "So where are you working, David?"

"At the animal shelter," David replied cheerfully. He enjoyed his work, enjoyed being around animals.

"Oh, right!" Mary immediately enthused. "How's that going?"

"It's been great so far. Most of the animals are terrific, really gentle, fun to play with. It doesn't actually feel like work to be around them at all, which I guess is a sign that I've got a good job."

Emma smiled, "It's so important to love what you're doing. We're lucky to all have that." She poked Henry in the arm then. "Or all will someday, anyway. You're not settling for anything less while I'm around, kid."

Henry grinned up at his Mom, and Mary and David could both see the adoration in his eyes. "Promise." He turned back to David then, "Do you have a favourite animal there?"

David rubbed the back of his head, an obviously nervous gesture. "Yeah, actually. There's one dog, a big chocolate lab, that tends to follow me around while I'm working. She's so well behaved, she'll just sit beside me for hours, not being a bother at all. She just seems to like to be near me. I'd bring her home if I could."

"Well why don't you?" Henry asked, innocently, before Mary or Emma - who could guess at the reason why not - could subtly stop him.

The disappointment was clear on David's face when he responded. "Kathryn doesn't like animals much."

"Oh," Henry sighed, understanding immediately. He figured now probably wasn't time to mention that if David was with Mary, like they were supposed to be, he'd totally be able to have his dog. "Does she have a name?"

"We call her Amy."

"Do you think anyone else will adopt her?"

"I don't know," David responded with his honest answer. "We don't get a lot of people looking to adopt pets. Unfortunately, a lot of these animals we probably won't find homes for. It's really sad. But.. as selfish as this is, I kind of hope nobody else does adopt Amy. She sort of feels like my dog, you know? I'm sort of trying to figure out a way I can keep her. It's all the other animals I worry about."

As Mary listened to David talk, she found that the voice in her head - the odd other side of her, the one that pushed her to decide to fight for David in the first place - seemed to be stirring, paying attention... and yelling at her rather loudly. She felt as though she'd suddenly been hit by inspiration, and finally, finally knew what step one to the big, thus far non-existent plan to fight for David was.

That other side of her heaved a big sigh of relief that the message was received as Mary announced, "You know, Emma and I had been thinking we're going to adopt a cat."

Three heads turned to her immediately. "You are?" David asked.

"You are?" Henry exclaimed, delight ringing in his voice for all to hear.

Everyone turned to Emma, Mary holding her breath all the while. Emma was eyeing Mary carefully, one eyebrow raised, a smirk taking over her beautiful features. But she had gotten the message, and if there was one person in this whole town whose back Emma totally had, it was Mary's. "Yeah kid, we are."

David was eyeing back and forth between Mary and Emma, certain that he'd seen some unspoken message pass between the two. It was, he thought, rather unfair that those two could apparently speak without actually talking. "You seemed surprised?"

"I am," Emma responded easily, "Because this was supposed to be a surprise for this one," she tickled Henry, basking in his giggles. "But _she_ went and ruined the secret on me."

Mary could not remember a moment where she had been more grateful to have Emma as a roommate, and knew that she owed the blonde, big time. "I am a terrible secret keeper, I probably should have mentioned that beforehand."

"No big," Emma shrugged, all the while eyeing Henry, who was in the process of bouncing up and down in his seat. "We got the reaction we were going for anyway."

"This is AWESOME," Henry announced, "I've never had a pet before. You having one will be the next closest thing."

The pain that crossed Emma's features was noticeable to Mary and David both, but she successfully hid it from her son. "You've never had a pet?"

"Nope. My mother doesn't like animals, just like Kathryn. It's no wonder they're friends. They probably get together to drink coffee and sneer at pet owners."

All three adults barely managed to choke back a laugh, and Emma felt lighter to have heard the easy-going comment from her son. He hadn't had much of a childhood, but he was resilient... and she was here now, to give him some of the things she had always wanted for him.

"Well, you're coming with us then to help pick one."

The excitement had turned Henry's eyes into saucers, as he turned to Mary. "REALLY? Can I?"

"Of course you can. He or she will be partly yours too."

"Partly mine?" Henry was beginning to look like this was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

"Well yeah," Mary replied, "You'll be coming over to visit it all the time, right?" She glanced over at Emma, who mouthed "Thank you" back.

"Of course I will! I can't wait! Can we go tomorrow?"

Mary and Emma quickly agreed, with David, having watched the whole scene with an air of bemusement commenting, "It sounds like you guys have a plan."

"Sweet!" the boy exclaimed, "I better get home, finish my homework, so my mother won't stop me from going out again tomorrow." As Henry gathered his things and ran out the door, Emma determined that she should probably chase after her over-excited kid, and turned to Mary to let her know. Mary nodded along, but Emma felt pretty sure that her roommate hadn't heard a word she'd said, distracted by David smiling at her. _Those two were so far gone, and didn't even know it. _She waved belatedly at her friends as she ran out the door, knowing that they wouldn't have paid any attention to it anyway.

"So," David murmured in Mary's ear, "Why do I have a feeling that you're up to something?"

Mary blinked innocently up at him, a lovely blush taking over her cheeks. "I don't know. Perhaps you're just a very suspicious person."

There was something approaching adoration written all over David's face as he laughed at her, and she knew that she was falling.

She reached up and embraced David, placing a perfectly innocent kiss on his cheek, but it was enough to have them both closing their eyes in longing. "I will see you tomorrow, David."

By the look on his face, she could tell that he was looking forward to it just as much as she was. "See you tomorrow, Mary."

When she made it home, Emma was already there, sitting in their living room with a glass of water, her amusement lighting up her features in a way that Mary had missed more than she'd realized. "So. We're adopting a cat?"

Mary winced laughingly. "I know, I should have given you more notice, figured a way to let you know. It just came to me! And come on, it was a genius idea."

"Oh yeah," Emma nodded mockingly, "Brilliant. Getting the sweet, animal loving man to see that you would let him have a veritable zoo if he picked you. Don't know how I didn't think of it."

"Shut up," Mary giggled, "It'll work. I happen to be great with animals, you know. He'll see that, and appreciate it. And if he happens to dream longingly of a life with me, and Amy, and a cat, apparently, well... then Step 1 is successful."

"Ooh, this is only Step 1? Do all the steps impact me?"

"Okay, so I should have asked you before hand. I'm sorry. Oh God, you're not allergic or anything? Hate cats? Have secret buried hostile memories of furry things?"

Emma laughed. "No, none of that. I'm cool with the cat."

Mary breathed a sigh of relief. "Good."

Emma nodded, taking a sip of water. "I'm totally more of a dog person though."

By the time Mary sent a pillow flying into Emma's head, they were both laughing.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: Hooray, Mary has a plan. Or part of one anyway. And you guys have no idea how excited I was to introduce the idea of 'Step 1' - let me know what you all think of it. I can't wait to get the next chapter out.<strong>_

_**As always, thanks for reading. **_


	6. Eight Paws

**Chapter Five: Eight Paws**

Mary Margaret liked to make lists. It was reassuring to her, to be organized in every aspect of her life. It made her feel prepared; made things feel predictable.

Mary was making lists with a kind of frenzied desperation that Emma was finding incredibly entertaining. Sipping her early morning coffee (that Mary could be this awake so early in the morning was completely unfair), Emma had been watching Mary with an air of simultaneous amazement and bemusement without commentary, but could no longer keep from questioning what the heck her roommate was actually trying to accomplish.

"You know, Mare... I really didn't know this kind of preparation and research was required for adopting a cat."

"Laugh if you want," Mary chided, putting her list of supplies they would need to buy off to one side of the desk, "But these things are important." She switched to another website on her old dilapidated desktop computer, and tapped her fingers on the table impatiently as the page, once again, took far longer to load than she would have liked.

Walking over to her friend, Emma commented, "You know, you really need to get an updated computer."

"I hardly ever use this one, why would I need to buy a new one?"

"Oh. I don't know... so that when you have crazy ideas that for some reason apparently require a manic amount of unnecessary research, you'll at least get it done faster? Besides, no one has a slow computer these days. Just get a laptop. A MacBook! You'd love a MacBook! They're shiny and pretty and, you know, new and functional?"

"I don't need a MacBook, what I need is for this damn page to... There! See! I don't need a new fancy computer that I wouldn't have the slightest idea how to use when this thing works just fine."

"Yeah, aside from it's ancientness." Staring over Mary's shoulder at the computer screen, Emma gaped. "Personality traits of different cat breeds? Why in the world do we need to know this?"

Indignantly, Mary stared at her friend. "We need to know what cats are good with kids! If this cat is going to be around Henry a lot, we want to make sure that they'll be comfortable together, and it won't like, try to eat him. Cats can get irritable that way."

"I really appreciate you looking out for my kid and all, but you know, I think that whole good or not good with kids thing really matters more if you're getting a dog."

Mary huffed, "I think that's insulting to cats. They have personalities too, don't you know."

Emma was just able to turn a snicker into a sigh before she really got in trouble, but couldn't help questioning Mary just a little bit farther. "Okay, you _may_ have a point there. We'll assume that some cats will tolerate kids - because let's face it, toleration is equal to love in cat world - and others won't. But Henry's going to be there with us. Can't we just... pick one that seems to like him?"

Mary groaned. "I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?"

Emma smirked in that way that took over her whole face, and Mary felt affection for her friend warm and calm her. There was something so familiar, so comforting about that expression, and Mary had the wayward thought that she'd be ridiculous forever if it kept Emma amused, kept that expression on her face. Emma's happiness seemed impossibly important to her, as though it mattered more than anything else in life. Mary felt like she'd give up anything, everything, if it meant Emma would be happy. She knew that this feeling should terrify her, but somehow it felt right. Somehow, some way, Emma mattered to her deeply. So if Emma thought she was ridiculous, then that was okay, as long as Emma was there.

"Just a tad," Emma responded easily, "But don't worry, I think it's part of your charm."

"I just... I don't think I've ever really done this before."

"Noooo!" Emma exclaimed, the sarcasm clear in her voice.

A laugh escaped Mary then, regardless of her attempt to control it. There was letting Emma be amused, and then there was encouraging her to continue using herself as a source of ridicule. "And you wonder why it is that you take so very many pillows to the head."

Emma pouted, "You know, I really should be getting better at avoiding those by now. I know it's coming... But, you were saying?"

"Well, I mean, I try to take care of the blue birds as best as I can. I feel like I'm very good with them, better than most people, actually. I know this is going to sound overconfident, but I've always felt like I had a gift with animals, you know? But... I don't remember ever actually having a pet myself. Is that weird? I feel like that's so weird."

Emma eyed her friend carefully. "I don't think never having had a pet is weird at all. But Mare... not remembering for sure? It seems like that's something you'd remember."

Mary was fiddling with her ring, unsure of what to say. The truth was, ever since she'd spoken with Graham on that horrible day, in the back of her mind she'd been wondering about how weak her memory was. Of course, she remembered her life - she did, she was sure she did - but when she tried to think of specific details, specific events, things got hazy. It worried her, and she considered changing the subject right away, but knew that she owed, and trusted, Emma more than that.

"I think my memory must be really bad. I have a hard time with a lot of details like that. Like the whole pet thing. I'm pretty sure I've never had one. I think I'd remember a pet. But I don't _know_, and that bothers me, because these are things I should know."

Warily, Emma looked down. She wasn't used to worrying about people like this, was used to only fending for herself, but now she had Mary, Henry, and to a growing extent, David who she cared for deeply. Hearing things like this in this town, things that weren't quite _normal_... But that was just her letting her son's overactive imagination jump into her head.

"Maybe it's the curse." Emma joked, awkwardly, trying to mask her worry. Mary smiled carefully, but the concern was still in her eyes as well. "Maybe this is something you should talk to a doctor about? I mean, it's great that you feel comfortable talking to me about it. You have no idea how much it means that you trust me like that. But I feel like I can't help you much. I'm kind of out of my depth on this one."

Mary sighed, "It's a good idea, really, Em... but I don't know if I'd feel comfortable talking about this with anyone else. I feel like you're the only one I trust enough."

"But a doctor... I mean, their license is relying on maintaining confidentiality-"

Mary rose a single eyebrow, and it was enough for Emma to know what she was thinking.

"- And that's irrelevant in this town because everyone's in Regina's pocket."

When Mary nodded, it was with a grimace. "Pretty much. There's just no way, Em. If she ever got the idea that anything was weird with me... I can only imagine what she'd do with that lovely little tidbit. The whole town would probably know, and think that I'm a crazy, public menace within two days."

"I really want to argue that, say she's not that bad. But I know better than anyone she's a psycho witch. Okay. So we keep this just between us, for now."

Mary's smile came far easier then. "Just us."

It meant a great deal to her that she knew that, with Emma, it would stay that way.

"Okay," Emma announced, "On to far more pleasant things. We have a cat to pick out, and a kid who - judging from how hyper he was when I said goodbye to him yesterday - is probably camped out in front of the animal shelter waiting for us. I honestly think he wanted to find a sleeping bag."

Mary's laugh echoed as they walked out the door.

* * *

><p>It somehow did not surprise David at all, to arrive at work at 9:00 am sharp to find a very excited ten year old boy sitting on the sidewalk outside.<p>

"Hey David!" Henry announced, "I'm SO glad someone's finally here. I've been waiting forever!"

Working very hard to keep the smirk off his face as he unlocked the door to the shelter, David questioned, "And how long is forever, exactly?"

Henry scrunched up his face, thinking. "I guess probably about twenty minutes or so. But that's FOREVER when something this awesome is happening."

Wishing desperately that he could remember how it felt to be that young, David smiled. "I guess it is. Well, come on in, buddy."

It was clear on Henry's face how much he liked that particular idea, but he remained outside, uncertain, even as David held the door open for him. "Shouldn't I wait out here for Emma and Ms. Blanchard?"

"You can if you want, but I'm sure they'd be fine with you coming in now. You could meet the cats, stake them out a bit, so you're full of information by the time Mary and Emma arrive. It's a very important job, you know, being the first one to meet a potential pet."

Henry had one foot in, and one foot still outside the door at this point. The idea of having such an important job clearly appealed to the boy, but his desperate desire to do right by his mother and his teacher continued to keep him outside. "But if it's going to be Ms Blanchard's pet, really, shouldn't she have that job?"

David had the thought, again, that he really, really liked this kid. Most kids would have been inside, on the floor, playing with all the animals by now. Henry - it was clear how desperately he wanted that, but at the same time, he cared so deeply for the feelings of others. He had a level of maturity, a seriousness to him, and though David did not know many children, he felt certain that the boy standing before him was special in ways that he hadn't even begun to know.

"I think," David started carefully, "That Mary and Emma think that their cat is going to be yours too, even if you're not going to be living with it. That's why they wanted you to come with them today to pick it out, right? I think they'll find it wonderful that you care so much about helping them pick the right one."

"Really?"

"Oh yes," David responded easily. "In fact, the job of being the first one to meet the cats, I think it's best when it's someone who's quite young does that job. If a cat likes a kid, you know that cat will probably like everyone in the family. But if Mary or Emma come in first, and they fall in love with a cat that doesn't like kids, well I don't think they'd want to get him. And then they'd be in love with a cat that they couldn't have. It would be heartbreaking..."

"We can't let that happen!" Henry gasped. "I'll come in now, so that when they arrive, I'll be able to tell them which ones are the best ones."

Hiding his grin, David led the boy into the cat area of the shelter. "I think that's a great idea. Come on in, buddy. And let me know which ones you'd like to hold."

The delighted, perfectly childlike wonder on Henry's face thrilled David. Henry definitely wasn't an ordinary boy, but ultimately, he was still a kid.

* * *

><p>As Mary and Emma arrived at the animal shelter, there was no sign of Henry.<p>

"I'm surprised," Mary commented, "I thought for sure that you were right, that he'd already be here waiting for us."

Emma grinned. "Yeah, well twenty bucks says he's already inside with six cats surrounding him, all purring like mad because they'll all adore him."

The image made Mary smile. "And if humans purred too..."

"He'd be right there with them. This is making him so happy. Thank you, Mary. You didn't have to involve him the way you did."

"Of course I did," Mary responded without needing to think about it. "It's you and me, Em, and he's part of you."

Emma blinked, carefully trying not to show how much Mary's simple words had affected her. She wasn't sure that she'd ever really get used to how much, and how obviously Mary cared for her. It wasn't something she'd ever experienced before; and more and more, she was feeling like it was something that she'd never be able to go back to living without.

"Thanks, Mare."

They walked together to the front desk of the shelter, only to notice that the woman working there seemed a bit overwhelmed, on the phone, while clearly trying to do a half dozen other things at once. Recognizing the town's Sheriff and her schoolteacher roommate as the friends that David had mentioned would be coming in to adopt a cat, she pointed the duo in the direction of the room where they kept the cats. Covering up the phone, the woman whispered, "David's already back there with the kid."

Both Emma and Mary smiled immediately, whispering their thanks. Heading in the direction they were told, Emma couldn't help but smirk. "Told ya."

"Yeah, yeah."

As they walked into the room, both women immediately wished that they had thought to bring a camera with them. Emma's earlier prediction had not been far off at all. Henry was sitting on the floor of the room surrounded by cats that David had clearly gotten from their crates so that Henry could meet them. Two were sitting on Henry's lap, and another - a tiny kitten that couldn't be more than a couple of months old - was desperately trying to jump up onto Henry's shoulder, but continued to only be able to get enough height to get halfway up his arm before the damn gravity slid him right back down. It may have been the most adorable thing that both women had ever seen.

At least, it would have been for Mary, had David not been standing right there, leaning against the wall - and God, could he make leaning look good - with that unbelievable half smile on his face as he too watched Henry play with the cats.

Yes, as far as Mary was concerned, Henry and the cats was a close second.

"Hey guys," David said, and the laugh was clear in his voice, "Come on in. Grab a cat. Henry's been trying to decide which are the best ones, and from that he has come to the conclusion that you're adopting all of them."

"Nuh-uh!" Henry retorted quickly. "I know we can't adopt all of them. I just... can't be the one who picks, they're all so great. I've done my job though, because I've found out that they all like kids for you."

Emma had never been one for giggling, but she found that should not help but giggle there. "That's very helpful kid," she said with a sly grin for her roommate "Because that was a very important consideration for us."

Mary snorted at Emma. "You're lucky there's not a pillow available right now."

Looking back and forth between the two women, David sighed. "You know, I always feel like I'm missing something when it comes to the two of you."

"We know," they responded in unison, even as they both started walking in different directions to look at the various cats.

While Emma had gone to sit down with her son, and the many cats that surrounded him, Mary had headed straight for the corner of the room, looking at a grey tabby cat. It was staring at her uncertainly, but Mary had felt drawn to it immediately. She turned to David, who had followed her over to it. "Tell me about this one," she asked quietly, mindful of frightening the cat.

"It's a three year old female. She's quite shy, but incredibly gentle. Henry was drawn to her too, and she seemed to like him. She was happy to have him petting her for awhile, even licked his hand for a bit, but she got a little skittish when all the other cats came down. She's fine with a couple of other pets, but in a situation like this, when there's a big crowd of them, she'll go back off on her own."

"So if ever we were to get another pet?"

"She'd be fine with it. As long as you don't go with Henry's 'adopt them all' dream."

Mary reached out a hand to the cat gently, leaving it a foot away from her so that she could choose to come to her. "Come here, sweetie," she called, and then turned back to David. "And when she's comfortable with someone, is she playful?"

"Very much so." David responded. "And look at that."

The cat had gotten up to sniff at Mary's hand, and apparently approved, because she had begun nudging at Mary's hand with her head, clearly wanting to be scratched. Giving up on the idea of staying off the floor, Mary followed Henry and Emma's lead of sitting right down. Clearly appreciating this, the cat reached her two front paws on Mary's leg, and promptly began purring.

"Oh," Mary sighed, "You are just a sweetheart, aren't you?" She carefully picked the cat up, wanting to see how she felt about being held (something told her that Henry, Emma and herself were all going to be cuddlers when it came to their pet). Rather than reacting badly, the cat nuzzled itself into Mary's neck, where she looked like she would be quite happy to stay all day.

Emma looked at Mary, and knew that she loved. "It looks like we may have found our pet, Henry."

"I really liked that one," Henry announced, "I think you've made a great choice, Ms Blanchard."

"Well hold on a second. We need to be sure she likes Emma too. Come here, Em." Mary called.

"Oh God," Emma laughed, "I really hope I'm not the one to mess this up." She reached out for the cat. "Come here, cutie."

The cat meowed quietly, clearly not thrilled at being taken from Mary's arms, but she didn't fight going to Emma. More than that, she seemed to sense something familiar about Emma, and warmed to her even quicker than she had Henry or Mary. As they all watched, the cat began to blink sleepily, and they all got the sense that the cat could quite easily just fall asleep right in Emma's arms.

"Oh man," Emma whispered, "I adore her."

Henry clapped delightedly. "Yay! What are we going to call her?"

Emma laughed. This whole thing was just so ridiculous to her. She couldn't believe that less than twenty-four hours after apparently deciding they were going to get a cat, they'd all managed to fall in love with one. And even as she cuddled it, she couldn't resist her instincts for sarcasm and poking fun at Mary, and proceeded to throw out the most obvious or ridiculous names she could think of. "Tabby! Mrs. Whiskerson!" She let out a fake, mocking gasp, "Fluffy!"

At the same time, Henry was trying his best to think of really good names that couldn't be connected back to Fairy Tale Land, lest the Evil Queen found out about what they were doing today. It was difficult. He couldn't help but think that Charming would be a really good name for a cat, but he wasn't sure if James would like that once he remembered that's who he really was. He decided to stick with normal names, that he thought were pretty. "Abby! Chloe! Mika!"

Staring at the cat, a light came to Mary's eyes. "What about Laci?"

Emma and Henry both smiled. "Laci," Emma said to the cat. "I think it fits. Where did you come up with it, Mare?"

A wistful smile came to Mary's lips. "I think I was inspired by something I read in a story."

Henry grinned knowingly. "A love story?"

"Well, that's the best kind," Mary responded with a laugh.

Having just stood back, watching and listening to the discussion taking place, David finally felt the time was right to jump in. He had adored watching all of them, especially Mary - they'd all looked so happy. "Laci's a fantastic name for her, Mary. So is that it, then? You guys are adopting her?"

Mary turned to the people she was increasingly thinking of as her family. "All in favour?"

When four hands shot into the air, they all turned to look at David, who'd raised his arm too, with a grin on his face. Laughing, Mary looked back at Laci. "Well, welcome to the family, Laci."

* * *

><p>Emma and Henry were sitting next to each other, Emma holding Laci in such a way that Henry could easily reach and pet her, while Mary filled out the necessary paperwork to adopt Laci. At the same time, Mary was cheerfully chatting with David about her plan for the cat. Laci being an adult cat, fully vaccinated, already spayed, and trained to use the litter box, there was no reason why they couldn't take her home with them that day. Emma was going to bring Laci back to their apartment, while Mary would go running out to the store to get all the supplies that they still needed, including what was sure to be an unnecessary number of toys. Emma, Henry and Mary were all in full agreement that Laci deserved to be completely spoiled, as she was clearly the greatest cat to have ever lived.<p>

David adored all of them for it. There weren't a lot of people in this town open to adopting animals - the shelter did not do particularly great business. But here were these three, adopting a cat, and treating her like she was the greatest thing that had happened to them for a very long time. He felt like the experience of picking them out had bonded the three of them closer together, and the instinct that they considered him part of it too thrilled him. He was part of something, and that meant a very great deal to him.

A light flush had come to Mary's cheeks as she noticed how David gazed at her, and she carefully avoided looking at Emma, and the smirk that she could _feel_ her roommate was shooting at her. It was wonderful, truly wonderful, to know that at least for this one moment, she was everything to David, and as she desperately tried to come up with a way to make the moment last longer, a thought occurred to her.

"David!" she exclaimed, "I can't believe I almost forgot. I wanted to meet Amy while we were here!"

Henry's head immediately shot up. "Oh, can we, David? I wanted to meet her too, but I got distracted by Laci. I'm glad you remembered, Ms. Blanchard!"

Mary laughed. "How about this, Henry. When we're all together like this, you can call me Mary. You'll still have to call me Ms. Blanchard when we're in class, but outside of school, when it's just us, I feel silly being the only one being called by my last name."

"Okay," Henry agreed, though he felt sure he'd slip up a couple of times. It was hard, calling her Ms. Blanchard, hearing everyone else call her Mary, all the while knowing that she was really Snow, and that she was kind of his grandmother, but at the same time, he couldn't call her Grandma - she wasn't near old enough! There were just too many names for her. It made it much easier to have clearly defined rules for what he should call her.

Watching the interaction between the two, David longed for a life in which he could be free to be with her. She was _amazing _with everyone. Kids, pets, everyone. It was difficult to resist his urge to just be with her, when he couldn't take his eyes off of her interacting with everyone. She glanced up at him then, through her eyelashes, and he almost felt lightheaded with wanting.

"Yeah, uh..." He cleared his throat, positive that at the very least Emma could hear how husky his voice had gotten. Even as she cuddled the cat, Emma's amusement was blatant, and slightly evil. _How Mary got anything done with that smirk being shot at her all the time... _"That sounds great guys. I'll go and get her."

When David then left the room, Emma switched the direction of her smirk to Mary, who was staring after him, looking very much like she should have hearts in her eyes.

Finally noticing the look on Emma's face, Mary blushed scarlet. "Shut up!"

"I didn't say anything!" Emma exclaimed.

"You were thinking things."

"Oh, I was thinking lots of things," Emma said, as her grin turned sly.

"What things?" Henry asked, with such pure innocence in his voice that neither woman could help but laugh.

"How awesome you are," Emma responded, as she reached out her free hand to tickle her son.

David walked back into the room to the echo of Henry's hysterical laughing. Amy followed him adoringly, as she was wont to do. Upon seeing the dog, Mary was immediately distracted, and she dropped to her knees to be level with the chocolate lab, Henry quickly following her. Emma watched them with an only slightly resentful expression - being the holder of the cat meant standing back while everyone else cooed over the dog. Amy glanced at Mary only for a second, before promptly rolled over onto her back - sensing a very high potential for a belly rub - to which Mary quickly complied. "She's gorgeous!" Mary exclaimed. "I can see why you love her so much."

David grinned. Yet one more creature that Mary had won over in seconds. "Yeah, she is. She's completely brilliant too. You see how she just conned you into that belly rub."

"It's not conning if it's freely given. Oh, look at those eyes!" Mary exclaimed. Amy's eyes were a deep black, and Mary thought that there was an almost human like quality to them, in the sense that they seemed to express emotion as a human's would. At the moment, Amy was glancing between David - who was scratching her head, and Mary - who was still rubbing her belly, with something that approached adoration. If Amy wasn't in dog heaven right now, she was close.

Emma couldn't take it anymore. "Okay, I'm coming over there. We'll see how Laci is with dogs." As she sat down carefully, so not to jostle Laci much, Amy noticed the cat in her arms, and stared at her, considering. Amy sat back up, distracted from all the lovely attention she was receiving by the possibility of a new friend. They all watched carefully as Amy walked slowly over to Laci, and sniffed at her. In reply, Laci promptly reached out with a paw, and playfully swatted the dog across the nose, to the laughter of all the humans.

"Okay," Mary said between giggles, "So Laci's okay with dogs."

David grinned. "And I think Amy's decided she's found someone new to play with. I know this dog, and I know when she doesn't like something... and she was fine with that. It's good to know that they'd be fine with hanging out together. Talk about us when we're not looking and all..."

"So you're still thinking about adopting her?" Henry asked, a note of excitement in his voice.

David sighed. "I want to. I really, really want to. But when I tried to talk to Kathryn about it again last night... it's not happening. I'll take care of her here, and when I take her for walks, I'll try and bring her around your place, Mary, so you guys can see her. But actually adopting her, I can't."

Disappointment for her friend taking over her face, Emma couldn't help but question, "Are you going to be okay if someone else eventually adopts her?"

David looked her in the eye, and they both knew how much they disliked the idea. "No. Probably not. Like I said to you guys yesterday, she feels like my dog."

Staring at Amy, Mary hated the idea of her belonging to a stranger as much as they all did. She was _theirs_... and with that, an idea came to mind. She glanced over at Emma.

Emma could see the look on Mary's face, and as she was becoming increasingly talented at doing, she immediately knew what Mary was thinking. "Oh my God," Emma said, with a light laugh.

Mary knew that Emma had figured out what she was thinking, and from the smile on Emma's face, Mary also knew that Emma was okay with it. Clearly, they were both crazy.

David looked back and forth between Mary and Emma. "Okay, you two have to stop doing that! What's going on?"

Mary bit her lip nervously as she looked at him. "Would Amy still feel like your dog... if Emma and I brought her home with us?"

David let out an incredulous laugh. "What?"

Mary spoke quickly then. "If you don't like the idea, I completely understand. It's just, none of us like the idea of Amy being adopted by a stranger, but we also don't want her to spend her whole life in a shelter. We've known her for ten minutes, and we already love her. I promise you, we'd take amazing care of her, and you'd be welcome to come over whenever you want, because in our minds, she'd really still be your dog, we'd just be providing a home for her when you can't right now. But if you hate the idea, I'll drop it right now, I -"

David cut her off then. "You'd really do that for me?"

Mary smiled, a brilliant, beautiful smile. "You're really going to have to figure out soon that I'd do just about anything for you."

And with that, Emma, the woman who was a sworn not-romantic felt herself swoon, just a little bit. _Screw everything else_. These two were meant to be together. And as she watched them stare at each other, Emma found herself rather wishing that she had the power to just make herself, her son, and her two new pets vanish, so that Mary and David could be alone together.

For the couple in question, however, their audience wasn't even in consideration. That was a moment where as far as they were concerned, it was just them.

"Thank you, Mary." David murmured, "I absolutely love the idea."

"I'm so glad," Mary whispered back.

And while they smiled at each other, and while Emma finally put Laci down on the floor, so that she could begin filling out paperwork for Amy (Mary being a bit otherwise distracted), Henry grinned. He felt quite positive that even as he sat and watched, the curse was breaking just a little bit more.

And as Henry glanced over at the pets, his grin spread even wider. Laci had just walked over to Amy, and promptly batted her across the nose once more.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: Hooray! The writer's block finally lessened enough for me to get this chapter written for you guys. I'm actually really happy with how it turned out. PLEASE let me know what you guys think of it. <strong>_

**_In case this question comes up, I wanted to let you know that Amy is *not* actually some character from Fairy Tale Land - at least, I'm not planning on her being one right now. I just liked the idea of creating a dog with very soulful eyes. _**

**_If any of you would like to see what Laci looks like in my head, just Google 'adorable grey cat'. Laci is the third image in the first row of the first page of images that come up. As for Amy, I haven't found a picture that reflects what I've imagined yet, but if I find one, I'll be sure to include that in the next chapter or two. _**

**_I won't be updating nearly as often as I got the first four chapters published, but I will try for every couple of weeks. I know where this story is going, but I've found so far that these characters can be quite stubborn in how I'm going to get there. Reviews encourage me to write faster! _**

**_As always, thanks for reading. _**


	7. Wandering

**_Author's Note: It's been awhile! But I always find that a good walk is the perfect cure when words are lacking. Enjoy the chapter. _**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six: Wandering<strong>

It was an odd thing, to wake up to the sound of a gentle whine.

Mary Margaret had lived on her own for so long that silence had become a way of life. It was silent when she woke up, silent when she'd do her chores, when she'd make and eat meals. Silent when she'd curl up with a book; silent when she'd try to concentrate on a lesson plan. Silent when she'd stare out the window wondering how this was her life.

Yes, Mary Margaret Blanchard was very used to silence. And then she invited the explosive, messy, and very, very loud Emma Swan to live with her.

And she'd come to find that she did not miss the silence at all. With Emma's noise, had come a sense of home that Mary hadn't expected at all when she first made the offer of her spare room to her.

Noise in general; Emma's noise, Mary had gotten used to, even come to appreciate. But Emma Swan definitely did not whine, and she certainly did not make any noise at all at seven o'clock on a Sunday morning.

Disoriented, Mary opened one eye and found herself staring straight into the dark eyes of the dog that she had adopted the day before.

With a light shriek, Mary sat straight up in bed, startling the dog who took a couple blindingly quick, somewhat wary steps backwards into the corner of the room. Guilt came with increasing consciousness, and Mary pushed back the covers and got out of bed to reach for the dog.

"Come here, sweetie. Sorry about that," she whispered, all the while considering the quirky little human tendency of speaking to a dog as if it could actually understand what was being said to him or her. As far as she knew, aside from a few key words that had sublime meaning to every dog - walk, treat, dinner being amongst the handful - any conversation with a dog would be gibberish to it. And certainly, the dog wasn't going to be replying. Yet people - and she was quickly proving to be no exception - couldn't seem to help themselves but to talk to their dogs as though they were an active part of the conversation.

They did make remarkably good listeners though. And those deep, dark, expressive eyes of Amy's - well, it was easy for Mary to imagine that her dog understood more than most.

And right at this particular moment, her dog's brilliantly expressive eyes were quite clearly pleading with her. And as this thought occurred to Mary, as if to confirm the point, another slight whine - matching perfectly the one that had woken her up in the first place - escaped the dog. It was enough to make Mary feel very much like the beginner pet owner that she was. How silly of her that she'd wondered, even for a moment, what it was the dog needed.

"You need to go out, don't you?" Mary whispered, mindful of being too loud and awakening her surely still sleeping roommate.

She took Amy's quick bark and prompt run for the door as tacit agreement.

Concerned for the mess she would find herself soon cleaning up if she did not hurry, Mary attempted to break land speed records in running around her room throwing on a top, jeans, boots and a jacket; writing a quick note to Emma so that she wouldn't worry were she to wake up and find that Mary was gone; and grabbing the dog's leash and her cell phone.

It was only about eight minutes (but she swore to herself she wasn't counting) into their walk when Mary finally lost the battle she was having with herself, and froze in her place. Sparing a brief moment to giggle at Amy's surprise at the sudden lack of moment - and it was quite clear that the lab was not impressed by it either - Mary quickly pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket, and sent out a text before she could talk herself out of it.

_Know it's insanely early, and you probably won't even get this, but your dog needed a walk. Taking her to the Toll Bridge. Meet us there? _

* * *

><p>Sleep was difficult to find, and not particularly long-lasting when it arrived. David was still staying in the guest room of his and Kathryn's house, as he felt he was not remotely close to being ready to return to the room he had shared with his wife. He knew this hurt Kathryn deeply, and felt horrible for it; but to try and pretend that he was comfortable with sharing a room with her would only hurt both of them more.<p>

Even though he stayed in his own room, he still was not sleeping particularly well. He'd toss and turn each night while trying to fall asleep; be plagued by thoughts of Mary while awake, dreaming, and in the in between; and after finally getting a decent few hour's sleep, he'd invariably be startled awake from a dream before sunrise.

This night was no different. He'd been lost in a dream that had quickly turned to nightmare, when Mary had been taken from him by some mysterious, invisible force. He'd searched for her in the dream, desperately, but no matter where he'd looked, he hadn't been able to find her, despite the fact that he could hear her terrified calls for him all the while. The echos of her screams continued in his mind even now, as he paced his room wide awake, trying to convince himself that it had just been a dream, that Mary was fine, and that running over to her apartment to make sure she was okay first thing on a Sunday morning was completely irrational. _If anything was wrong with Mary, Emma would have called. She's fine. She's asleep, in her own bed... _

And that, thanks to his wonderfully traitorous mind, only led to lazy thoughts of all the ways he'd enjoy being able to wake the lovely Ms. Blanchard up. _Not helpful, Nolan. _

When his phone vibrated against the end table it was sitting on, he dove for it like a wonderful, distracting, lifeline. Opening the new next message he had, he sucked in a breath once he saw it was from Mary.

_Know it's insanely early, and you probably won't even get this, but your dog needed a walk. Taking her to the Toll Bridge. Meet us there? _

That Mary continued to insist on calling Amy his dog, regardless of the fact that it was she who truly held ownership of her brought a wide smile to his face. The temptation of seeing Mary, of pushing the dream - that had disturbed him more than he wanted to continue to contemplate -further from his mind by seeing for himself that she truly was perfectly fine, within reach, _findable_, had him halfway out his front door before he'd even consciously realized he'd decided to go.

Pausing on the front step, he considered how unfair he was continuing to be to Kathryn. If he were the honorable man he was trying to be, truly, would he be doing this? Leaving at dawn to see another woman? He could make all the excuses he wanted about it really being about his dog, _their_ dog, but he knew that would be lying to everyone involved, including himself.

David turned around, and went back inside. Tried to sit down, turned on the television, flipped through the channels at a pace so rapid he couldn't have told anyone what was actually on a single channel. Stared at the small pile of magazines that littered the coffee table. Considered making a cup of coffee. Or two, bringing one up to Kathryn. A peace offering, an attempt to end the awkward stalemate that they'd been trapped in. _His fault_, a little voice in the back of his mind reminded. He tried to imagine what Kathryn's reaction would be, if he went back upstairs now, entered the room that was meant to be his, handed her the coffee.

Uninvited, Mary strolled right into his head and took the travel mug of coffee he offered with a smile.

Sighing, David finally gave up on fighting himself. He'd known he was going to go from the moment he'd received Mary's text. Whether unfair to Kathryn or not, he could not bring himself to do (or more accurately, not do) something that would hurt Mary Margaret, again, after how wonderful she'd been to him to adopt Amy _for him_.

He jotted a quick note down on the pad that Kathryn kept near the phone for message taking, letting her know that he was going for a walk. With another pang of guilt, he knew instinctively that she would not be surprised. He spent more time going for walks; being outside of their home, than he spent in it.

How much longer could he really keep doing this, he wondered. It was only hurting all of them.

As he walked out the door, he typed out a quick reply to Mary.

_On my way. See you there. _

* * *

><p>Amy was peeking around amongst all that there was for a dog to explore in the woods. She'd known that David and the rest of the shelter employees took the dogs for regular walks, but this long, leisurely exploration was something new to Amy - David wouldn't have had time to spend an hour wandering the forest with her while working, the way that Mary or Emma could walk with her now. Mary made a mental note to herself now, watching how clearly Amy loved every minute of her little adventure, that at least once a week, someone should make sure to take her for a long walk like this. Having spent the better part of her adult life in the shelter - David had told her that Amy had been abandoned by her past owners soon after the adorable puppy had grown to adult size, anger giving his voice a bitter note she'd rarely heard from him - Amy deserved all of the perks of having a real home that she, Emma, and David could give her.<p>

Watching and laughing as Amy stared in sheer fascination at a squirrel digging for something about twenty yards away, Mary made a grab for Amy's leash before the dog decided it was time to play chase with the creature that so intrigued her. Uncertain about how well trained Amy was, Mary hadn't let her completely off-leash, rather, had placed the leash on the ground, keeping the grip end steady on the ground under her foot, and allowing Amy to extend the retractable lead as far as it was going to, so the dog would feel as though she was exploring on her own. She felt quite sure that, when she got around to asking David, he'd tell her that Amy most certainly would return when called - the dog was clearly intelligent, and obeyed most basic commands she'd tried with her so far - however that little bit of uncertainty, combined with the terror she knew she'd feel if Amy hadn't come back was enough to keep her on leash, for now.

It was so wonderful though, wandering the forest with her dog, seeing, hearing it the way she imagined that Amy did, with new, amazed eyes, that Mary found herself wondering how she could have never done this before. All that time of loneliness... a pet wouldn't have cured it, but it certainly would have helped. But now she had two pets who she already adored so completely, a feeling that seemed to increase ten-fold with every additional moment she spent walking with Amy. Mary felt an utter sense of peace take over her then, such that she nearly jumped out of her own skin when she heard her phone go off; before she felt the spark of quick, delighted joy that came with every interaction she had with David.

He'd gotten her message. He was coming.

That ridiculous urge to share everything with her dog seemed overpowering then, and Mary was in far too good of a mood to bother with containing it. "David's coming, Ames!" she cheered to the dog, and the way that Amy turned back to stare at her - finally distracted from the squirrel - head tilted in bemusement was enough to have Mary giggling.

Jogging lightly to catch up to where Amy had gotten ahead of her, Mary pet the top of Amy's head gently. Figuring if she was going to become one of those crazy people who had full conversations with their dog - and she was increasingly coming to suspect that that category of people was called 'all dog owners' - she guessed she might as well do the thing properly.

"David's better than squirrels anyway," she commented genially.

"Delighted to hear that."

The shriek escaped Mary even as she spun around where she stood, only to find a very entertained looking David standing ten feet behind her. The easy, warm, charming smile on his face did not help send her heart rate back to normal.

"It really is a relief to know that I trump small woodland creatures in your books."

"Reconsidering at the moment," Mary commented blandly, her voice a contrast to the excitement she still felt, "I can't say that a squirrel's ever made me jump like that, which I have to put in their favour."

David's grin spread wider as he walked up to Mary. "So it's still a competition with the squirrels then? I'm hurt. I'd have hoped to advance to comparison to at least raccoons by now."

Unable to keep the laugh out of her voice or her eyes, Mary swatted at David's shoulder. "Alright, fine. The charm has you competing with deer."

"A greater triumph, I have never felt."

"Not sure how you'll stack up though. Deer are such lovely animals."

"So Bambi says it's on. Bring it."

Both of them laughing then, Mary reached out to give David a quick hug hello, not seeing the way his eyes closed in longing the moment she touched him. Both held on tighter, and stayed in the other's arms a beat too long for the hug to qualify as simply friendly.

It was Mary who pulled away first - to both of their disappointment - to look David in the eye. "Seriously though. How'd you get here so quick? I only got your text thirty seconds before you decided to scare me half to death."

With a quick glance at the phone Mary still held in her hand, David commented easily, "I actually sent that text about fifteen minutes ago. We're wandering around in the woods, the signal must not be great out here."

Mary blushed. "Right. Didn't even think of that. Well it's good to know we're screwed if there's a crazy axe murderer out here."

David smiled. "I'd protect you."

Mary's blush deepened, but the wit that seemed to come out whenever she was around David broke through anyway. "Well then. I think you just triumphed over the deer."

David's laugh echoed though the woods.

* * *

><p>Amy was wandering about six feet ahead of Mary and David as they leisurely walked side-by-side behind her. Entertained by the way their dog sniffed at everything in sight, but never for longer than a second or two before moving on to the next thing - as though there was too much to discover to stay on any one thing for long - the smiles did not leave either of their faces. They were happy to engage in quiet conversation, but just as comfortable walking in companionable silence. Both knew, but did not speak of the fact that this was as relaxed as either had been for some time.<p>

There was a calmness, a peace, a sense of utter rightness that came from simply being _near_ each other. David didn't worry about whether what he was doing was right. Mary didn't consider any genius plans for getting him to fall for her. In the moment, it was enough to just be walking their dog together.

"How were they last night?" David asked.

"Not bad," Mary responded. "Laci got shy and hid under Emma's bed, but you said that was fairly typical of cats in new homes?"

"Yeah it is," David replied, "Especially when the cat is shy anyway the way Laci is. She liked you guys though, so as she gets more comfortable in your apartment, she'll be fine. What about Amy?"

Mary laughed lightly. "Amy strolled in and made herself right at home. We set up her bed in the living room, but she was more interested in the couch. We tried to keep her off there, to see if we can get her trained to use her bed, but I don't know how long that lasted while Emma and I were asleep. She also proved to us that she'll do just about anything for a treat. This dog is a master of the sad little puppy eyes."

David chuckled, "Yeah, total con artist. I seem to remember mentioning that little detail?"

"And now we believe you." Mary smiled, but there was a slight wistfulness in her eyes that anyone who didn't know her better would have missed.

David, however, was coming to know her well. "What is it?"

Mary spoke slowly, picking her words carefully, and kept her eyes trained on Amy. "Emma smiled a lot. And it was just really good to see, you know? She's so much better when she's near all of us, especially Henry, but when it's just her and me at home, she lets her guard down a bit more, and there's these moments she has at night where she's so far away, so sad, and I just know she's gone back there. But last night... she was playing keep away with one of the toys we got for Amy, and Amy was getting so annoyed, you could just see it on her face, and Emma was starting to laugh. And Amy of course saw that as her opportunity in a moment of weakness, grabbed the toy and ran, and Emma just cracked up. When she said good night, there was still a smile on her face. For a night, there was no sadness to her."

She looked up at David then. "I should have gotten a pet long ago. Not just for Emma, for me too. When I woke up this morning, Amy was almost on top of me - seriously, her face must have just been a foot from mine when I opened my eyes - and she was whining to go out. She nearly gave me a heart attack, but when I realized it was her... it was nice, you know? Having someone I needed to take care of, someone who's there when I wake up. It seemed like a pet is probably a pretty good cure for loneliness. And before Emma moved in... well, it was quite lonely, being all by myself all the time. It would have been good to have had a pet all those years."

David sighed, his heart breaking a little bit for Mary. He hadn't really considered what life had been like for her before he'd known her, but he was beginning to get the sense that it hadn't been very filled with joy. And then she'd gotten to know him, trust him, smiled a lot around him, perhaps begun to imagine a future with him... and he'd gone back to Kathryn.

He hated himself for what he must have done to her.

"Mary..."

Somehow intuitively knowing exactly what David was thinking, Mary smiled at him, though shakily. "It's okay. I'm not so lonely anymore."

Unable to help himself, David reached out to touch Mary's face, and the vow he whispered to her was also directed at himself.

"You won't have to be again. We'll find a way."

Mary leaned her head into David's hand. "I don't want this to hurt you, David. And I can see that it has been. If you want me to stop fighting for you, I will."

When David's eyes locked with hers, he felt as though he was seeing straight into her soul, and for a disconcerting moment, felt as though he had suddenly remembered something, but lost it before he could get a grip on whatever it was.

That lost memory wasn't much, but it was enough for him to know that there was no possible way that he could let Mary let him go. She was everything.

"I don't want you to give up on me, Mary." he murmured. "But that's selfish of me, and unfair to you, and I don't ever want to be responsible for hurting you. If you want to walk away..."

"I don't," Mary responded, immediately. "I'm not done fighting for you yet, David."

He leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead. "I'm glad," he whispered, lips still against her skin. The constant longing he felt whenever she was near intensified, and he considered how easy it would be to just capture her lips then and there.

Mary pulled back to stare at David for a moment, then smiled lightly and leaned forward, tilting her head so that they were forehead to forehead. The temptation to kiss him felt all-consuming, but she was determined that she'd let him make the next move.

For how long they stood together like that, neither was sure. Being so close together, so connected, felt so right that they both could have stayed like that forever, just him and her. He had reached out to her at some point, and his hands stroked up and down her upper arms, bringing out goosebumps. Neither speaking, the moment felt so perfect that Mary felt as though she could barely breathe through it. Coming to a decision, David angled his head toward Mary's such that their lips were only a hair's breadth away.

The dog barked.

Laughing, Mary and David pulled away to look to see what exactly had captured Amy's attention. Both of their jaws dropped, as they glanced in the direction Amy was staring in, only to watch a deer running through the trees.

Turning back to stare at each other, wide eyed, David quipped, "Bambi really is being a pain in my ass today."

The fit of giggles Mary went into was almost, almost worth it. And as Amy turned to go running after the deer, David grabbed hold of the leash, then with his other hand gripped Mary's, as the two of them, together, were pulled after their very excited dog. Laughing all the while, David knew that he would spend every day like this if he could.

The moment had been lost, but there would be others.

* * *

><p>From the other side of the bridge, unseen, Kathryn Nolan wiped away tears.<p>

He'd never been that way with her.

* * *

><p>Amy had finally lost sight of the deer, and had given up on running after it, and was now calmly sitting, staring bewilderedly at her owners, who were lying on the ground in the clearing that they had finally caught up to their dog in. Both Mary and David were gasping for breath through their laughter.<p>

"I think she's about as fond of woodland critters as you are," Mary commented, trying to keep the look on her face stern and failing miserably.

"She's just trying to take out the competition for me," David replied. "You know, labs, very loyal animals."

"Oh, is that what that was about then? All for you?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"But what about me, and my fondness of animals? You only just beat out the squirrels, after all."

"I'm pretty sure I'd triumphed over deer at last count, actually."

"Even so. She goes running after a deer when we've established that I'm almost as fond of them as I am you. Where's the loyalty to me?"

"Are you saying she should love you more than me?"

"Are you saying she loves you more than me now?"

"I've known her longer."

"I adopted her."

"For me."

"Mmm," Mary's face scrunched up, considering, in a way that was so familiar to David somehow that he nearly lost his breath. "Uh-uh. I'm thinking that adopting her was all for me now. My dog."

Gaining his focus back, shaking off the moment of deja vu distraction, David volleyed back, "Our dog."

The easy banter stopped then, as a delighted smile came to Mary's face. She loved the sound of that - something being theirs, together - coming from him. "Yeah, okay, our dog."

"And you know what?"

"What?"

"I think maybe that wasn't about loyalty to either one of us."

"No," Mary agreed. "Maybe that was just a dog being a dog?"

"Dog sees other animal, dog runs after animal, dog makes owners wish they were Olympic marathon runners?"

"Sounds about right."

Sitting back up, David grinned. "Come here," he reached for Mary, who easily crawled into his arms. The peaceful feeling of before their run settled back over them, when it was enough, it was plenty, to just be near each other.

Finally tired, Amy seemed to decide that they weren't going anywhere any time soon. Eyes drooping, Amy lied down about six feet from her owners, curled into a ball, and in that impossibly fast way that only a dog can, promptly fell asleep.

Smiling fondly at the dog, at the knowledge that she was completely theirs, both Mary and David relaxed further. It was plainly obvious that it was going to be a beautiful day, and in the early morning sun, neither was in any rush to leave.

"I wish I could just stay in this moment forever," Mary whispered, quietly enough that David only barely heard her.

Though David smiled at her, he didn't reply, and Mary felt the momentary, paralyzing fear of rejection, and closed her eyes.

"Mary," David murmured, and Mary opened her eyes again to find David's face a foot from hers, his piercing blue eyes seeking her permission.

This time, when he went to kiss her, the dog did not interrupt.

And as her arms wrapped around his neck, Mary had the fleeting thought that she'd been wrong before. _This_ was the moment that she wished she could stay in forever.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: Oh, man. I did NOT mean for there to be this long of a delay between chapters, but these two were stubborn in telling me what was going to happen next. Writer's block is no fun, and I'm not even sure I'm particularly happy with this chapter, but I decided that it was time to move this story forward. You can thank the lovely recent finale spoilers, combined with the beautiful thirty second moment us SnowCharming fans got on Sunday, for inspiring me to get this chapter out. **_

_**I know there's a large part of this fandom that is not remotely happy with David on the show for how he handled things with Kathryn, and those same people are probably considering throwing things at me right now, but please know that I have a plan for this story, and accept that the moments between Mary and David in this chapter were part of telling it. If you're no longer interested in reading this story because of it, I completely understand. **_

_**I'll try not to have such a long delay between chapters again, but I rely on you guys to keep me going. I don't want to keep begging for reviews, but I really feel like I need to know if you are enjoying this story. It's difficult to write if you're not sure anyone's enjoying the story you're trying to tell. And as complicated as our couple clearly are on the show - I can't always count on beautiful thirty second moments to be there to inspire me. That's where you all come in, because your lovely reviews make me want to write more, and faster. **_

_**Thanks, as always, for reading. **_


	8. Flash Forward

_**Author's note: There is a scene in this chapter that some readers may find disturbing. **_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven: Flash Forward<strong>

They decided they'd leave when the dog woke up. It was a silly, perhaps even a bit immature way of making the decision - they both knew it, but couldn't bring themselves to care. They could have woken Amy up themselves, but didn't care to do so while the lab looked so sweet curled up in the sun. Had they wanted to just let her sleep but leave anyway, David could have carried her, he was easily strong enough. There were other options, besides potentially waiting around all day for a labrador retriever - clearly a creature talented at sleeping - to wake up.

It was just that none of them actually appealed to the pair. Despite all the reasons they should have been quick to leave, neither Mary or David had any interest in leaving the tiny clearing they'd found themselves in.

* * *

><p>Mary had rolled over onto her stomach, still lying in the grass, and David - lying on his side a foot away, watching her - had found himself unable to keep from touching her in some way. He'd reached out a hand to her, and gently begun scratching her back. Any tension - not that there'd been much, given how relaxed she already was - immediately dissolved from her body. The moan that escaped Mary then, well, she felt sure that she'd never made quite that sound before in her life. At David's warm, delighted chuckle, Mary felt herself blush, but determined not to let him win so easily, moved her leg to lightly kick his.<p>

"So abusive," David murmured, the laugh still in his voice rather weakening his attempt at playing hurt.

"Awww, poor baby," Mary returned, voice half a sigh as David continued to gently scratch and massage her back.

"You mocking me, little one?"

"Mmm. Maybe a little bit. It's difficult not to, you know, when you make it so easy."

That deep, throaty laugh of David's escaped him once more. Mary sucked in a breath, wondering if his impact on her would ever lessen, if she would ever be able to have control over how easily he charmed her... and how badly it caused her to want him.

She delighted him. Everyone else he knew spent all their time walking on eggshells around him, ever since he'd woken up from his coma. He knew no one meant to hurt him with it - especially Emma, whose carefulness around him at first stemmed from her own wariness of trusting people rather than any concern over him specifically. But because of how everyone else treated him, it was such a wonderful change to just *be* with Mary, and to know that she wasn't careful with him, wasn't tiptoeing. Just the opposite, in fact. There was something lighter about her when they were alone together, a side to her that only seemed to come out when it was just him and her. To a certain extent that side showed with Emma and Henry as well, though it didn't seem quite the same. The comfort she had with mocking him, with playing with him... sometimes it felt like he was completely at her mercy, and he oddly found that he adored the feeling. There was a spark to her that seemed only to belong to him, and he was determined to keep it that way.

He could be himself around her, because she didn't expect anything else. She could let her fun side out, because being around him brought it out in her, somehow. Was it truly any wonder that they couldn't seem to help themselves but to be near each other?

With a lazy, happy sigh, David reached out and pulled Mary into his arms, and she settled easily, comfortably into his lap. Arms wrapped around each other, Mary glanced up to ask David more about when they should leave, when the question died on her lips at the realization of the look on David's face. The mocking, slightly evil smirk David wore was unmistakeable, as he leaned down to whisper in Mary's ear, "I may be easy to mock... but we both know you're quicker to squeal."

Mary raised one eyebrow challengingly, but she couldn't quite manage to completely conceal the bewilderment she felt. She knew well enough that she was being taunted, the man was clearly up to something; and she could feel an odd sense of deja vu, like she should know exactly what he was up to, but couldn't quite get her finger on whatever that might be.

Reading the confusion on Mary's face, a thrilled smile unfolded on David's face. Mary lost her breath for just a moment, recognizing his smile matched perfectly the one he had given her when he first asked her to meet him at the Toll Bridge, to give them a chance. _You know where I'll be..._ Amazed by how they'd gotten from there to this moment - her wrapped so tightly in his arms - she wondered if she was succeeding in getting him to fall for her without needing to enact many plans at all, but by just _being_ the person he brought out in her.

Knowing her as well as he was coming to, it was impossible for David to not notice Mary's slightly stunned distraction, and he thought to delay his evil plot to make sure she was alright, before Mary smiled, that beautiful smile that took over her whole face, lighting her up.

Though he certainly wondered what had caused Mary to lose her focus so, he knew it couldn't have been anything bad. _All was fine, all was perfect_.

And her lovely, helpful distraction just made it easier for him to go on attack anyway.

When he began tickling her sides, the squeal escaped her before she could stop it, and that turned into hysterical laughs. _How he'd known she was so damn ticklish..._ Through her laughter, Mary tried to fight her way loose, escape his grip, but he had too good of a hold on her. He'd been planning this one, she knew, and her distraction with his stupid, wonderful boyish grin had just made it all too easy for him. _Evil. _

Begging, she pleaded uncle as they both continued to laugh, and she felt relieved as he finally showed mercy - stopping his tickling, but pulling her into an even tighter hold.

"I told you you'd squeal," he announced, laughter still in his voice, and she froze at the familiarity of it, the laugh, the cockiness in his voice, even some of the phrasing. _I told you I'd find you_ echoed in the recesses of her mind, and it stunned her, because somewhere it flickered in her memory, in that part of it she usually could never quite reach. It was David, she knew, but he'd never said that to her, not like that, she'd remember it with her whole mind, not just some part of her that recognized, that ached for it, ached to be found.

She didn't remember him ever saying that to her. Except some part of her did.

_I will always find you_, she thought, her mind's voice half a sob, and Mary immediately felt horror for it, because the thought was hers but wasn't. And that wasn't normal.

"Mary?" David questioned, concerned now.

She shook the feeling off with some desperation. It wasn't normal, having memories that weren't her own but felt like they were, and knowing that, she quickly convinced herself it was imagined, or part of a half remembered dream. The part of her that had the replying thought had quieted as quickly as it came, and she was able, with some difficultly, to shove the insanity of what had just happened to her out of her mind.

"I'm fine," Mary said with a smile that David could clearly see the shakiness of, "Just had some really weird deja vu there."

"Mare," David sighed, "You looked like you weren't even here for a moment there, like you'd gone somewhere a million miles away. You can tell me what happened. I need to know you're alright."

Mary could feel herself pulling away from him, self-preservation instincts kicking in, and immediately hated it. This was David. She could tell him... maybe not everything, but more than this. This was unfair to him.

And she really, really didn't want to wreck the beautiful morning they'd been having by hurting him.

"I have these moments, sometimes," she started, so carefully. She could feel David watching her, even as she stared at the details of each blade of grass, somehow afraid to meet his eye.

Sensing her discomfort, and awestruck by the fact that she was going to try to explain anyway - when he felt sure he'd felt her pulling away - he determined that he'd comfort her in any way he could. He carefully reached an arm around her and began gently scratching her back again, as he had before when she'd relaxed so. She looked up at him then, grateful, and she felt the courage to continue hit her faster than she'd imagined possible.

"Like deja vu... I wasn't lying when I said that, it's the best way I could describe it. But it's like I suddenly have these memories, or thoughts, that don't feel like mine, but I have them anyway." She half-laughed then, frustrated, "That doesn't make any sense."

"Mary," David murmured, "It's me. It makes more sense than you know."

"But there's a reason for you to feel like that!" Mary exclaimed, frustration tinging every syllable. "There's no logical explanation for why I should feel this way, why I should have these moments where it's like..."

"It's like?"

She met his eye, frightened. "It's like I'm having someone else's thoughts. Like I have another personality - except I'm aware of it, and can keep it buried, except for these rare times when something brings it out."

"The deja vu?"

"Yes. It's usually moments when I'm overly emotional... or, when I feel that deja vu connection to a moment that I've never experienced myself."

"So what caused it then?"

"When you said 'I told you you'd squeal'. Just the tone of your voice, the inflection... I could suddenly hear you saying 'I told you I'd find you' the same way..."

_No matter what you do, I will always find you. _

David flinched, the sudden memory appearing to him with no warning, and with it, a blinding, piercing pain through his head. Determined not to frighten Mary, he resisted, barely, the urge to bury his head in his hands.

Of course, as well as David was coming to know Mary, so too was she getting to understand him. They couldn't hide anything from each other.

"Da... David?"

He stared at her then, the pain abating as quickly as it had come. And try as he might - he couldn't recall what it was that he had heard in his own mind to have caused it.

"I, um... thought I had something for a moment there. A memory. But it didn't make any sense, and now I've lost it, and... are you sure that never happened? Maybe before my accident?"

"No," Mary stammered, frightened. "We didn't know each other before your accident, David."

He smirked then out of frustration more than anything, unable to help himself. "It seems odd though. Town this small? These days we see each other every day even when we're not trying."

Mary bit her lip, blushing. "Seems like we're trying most of the time though."

It was amazing, how easily she could relax him, calm him down. What the hell was he thinking, trying to live his life without her? When with the simplest comment she could make everything okay, or better than it had been, anyway.

"Yeah," David agreed, "I guess we are."

With David's easy smile, Mary felt herself calm, slightly, but knowing that David had more questions - and why wouldn't he - she felt she owed it to both of them to help him in any way she could.

"Out with it, Nolan," she murmured, stroking his face, "You're still unsure of something."

"If we never knew each other before my accident..."

"We didn't. I only knew you as one of the hospital patients I visited on my rounds. I'd bring flowers. I know it was silly, but..."

"It wasn't. Not many people would care enough about a stranger in a coma. I'm grateful for it, Mary. But you have to tell me then. Do you have any idea how long I was there?"

A shadow crossed Mary's face as she thought about it. She should have an answer to that question. Not specific, certainly, but she should have some kind of an idea. She'd volunteered at the hospital for such a long time, and he'd been one of the patients she'd visited for so long...

"I um. I don't understand how... but I don't know? I'm sorry David. Thinking back now though, volunteering kind of feels like something I'd always done, and you were always there... it had to have been a long time. A really long time, actually - I can't think of a time before you were there, and I volunteered there for... well, forever, it seems like. My God, shouldn't Dr. Whale have told you how long you were in a coma for? It seems like something the treating physician would know."

David laughed once, but there was no real humor in it. "You'd think, but no. Dr. Whale wasn't able to tell me much of anything useful. I guess I'll never be able to really understand what happened to me."

Sadness filled Mary's eyes then, and he regretted being the one responsible for putting it there terribly. "Hey," he murmured, "It's okay. I got used to not having any answers a long time ago."

"I just wish I could help you more," she sighed, looking down at the ground, blinking away frustrated tears.

He reached out and gently touched her chin to tilt her head up and allow them to make eye contact once more.

"You help me more than anything else. Hell... you're _all_ that has helped me since I first woke up."

She was able to smile then, real and radiant, and when he kissed her, her smile continued into it. There was nothing quite like the feeling of kissing him, and she awed in how careful he was with her. As though he feared she'd disappear at any moment... which was exactly how she felt with him.

Somehow, they understood each other better than anyone else could, and she suddenly knew that that kind of empathy for each other would do far more for their relationship than any genius scheme she could possibly come up with.

"Hey," David murmured, between quick kisses, "You getting the feeling we're being watched?"

Mary's brow furrowed then in confusion. "Yeah, actually...?"

Pulling apart, Mary and David glanced over at Amy, who was sitting right up, and quite plainly staring at them. Clearly realizing that she'd _finally_ been noticed, Amy barked twice, cheerfully, and her owners would both later insist that the dog was incredibly proud of herself in the moment.

_Hey, hey... time to go guys! _

* * *

><p>Their walk back to the Toll Bridge was quiet, but companionably so. They were both comfortable with being near each other without talking, another positive to their relationship that Mary added to what was an ever growing mental list. They both had a lot to think about, and it was wonderful that they could each be lost in their own thoughts without it being awkward.<p>

They reached the outside of Mary's apartment building far quicker than either of them would have liked, and gazing at each other, neither knew quite what to say. So much had changed between them today, they had become so much closer - even over the course of a single morning, it was time spent between them _alone_, time that allowed them to get some kind of a grip on what they were feeling for each other. The morning had felt like an escape, and neither wanted to get back to 'real life'.

"I don't want to leave you," David murmured, his voice rougher than Mary had ever heard it.

"It's okay," Mary whispered back, carefully. "I get it. This morning was perfect... but it didn't change..."

"It changed a lot," David responded quickly, cutting her off. "For me, it changed everything."

Mary stared at him, hardly daring to hope.

"I know how I feel, Mare. And I think I know how you do too. I can't keep hurting all of us like this. I've got to fix it, somehow."

The smile on Mary's face was wondering, but still so very careful. "You'll do what you think is right, David. I know that. Don't worry about me. I'm okay. You just figure things out for yourself. And I'll be here."

Leaning down, David placed a gentle kiss on Mary's forehead. The moment - as every one did between them - lasted just a split second longer than it probably should have. They lingered, with each other. Had from the moment they met. And that seemed like one thing that would never change.

With a pat on Amy's head, David turned to walk away. He'd gotten about ten feet, when Mary called for him.

"And David?"

Freezing where he stood, David turned around, but stayed where he was, fearing that if he went back to her now, he'd never be able to leave. The temptation of her was too strong.

At David's questioning look, Mary smiled. "I feel exactly how you think I feel."

And with a wink, Mary turned and opened the door to her building, pulling Amy inside with her.

The half smile that was only for Mary stretched over David's face as he walked away.

* * *

><p>When David walked in the front door of the house that was his and the home that was not, it was with an air of simultaneous dread and determination. He'd <em>never <em>wanted to hurt Kathryn, but continuing to try and play the part of the good husband was only hurting them all. He didn't love her. He'd known that since he'd woken up, but had tried so hard to find it, in the determination to be an honourable man, and to be the person he'd been before the accident. None of this was Kathryn's fault. He knew it wasn't his fault either, but that hadn't stopped him from feeling horrible, and from staying in attempt to find what he'd lost.

And at that thought, he nearly stumbled, distracted. It was never, could never have been about finding Kathryn, finding a love for her. It was always, _always_, about finding Mary. And even that didn't feel quite right... but he was certain that he was coming far closer to whatever it was that he'd been searching for from the moment he'd first gained consciousness.

With that certainty, David walked into the kitchen, and promptly froze at the entrance. _Something wasn't right... _

"Kathryn? Are you alright?"

Kathryn looked up from the kitchen counter then, a wary smile on her face, so clearly forced that he nearly winced at the sight of it. He really, really hadn't wanted to hurt her.

"How was your walk?" Kathryn asked, gently, always too gentle. "You were gone for so long..."

"I know. Kathryn, we really need to talk."

"Yes," Kathryn responded, as she got back to chopping some kind of vegetable. "I agree. We've got to do something about this distance between us. You know that I think you should move back into our room, but you continue to insist you're not ready..."

"I'm not," David responded, sharper than he'd intended. "Kathryn..."

"But when are you going to be ready if you don't try? You spend all of your time getting as far away from me as you possibly can, and it's not alright, David. We should be trying to get close again. We should be trying to start a family."

"What?" David exclaimed, unable to help himself. "You're not listening to me, and I don't think you know what you're saying either. We're not going to be starting a family."

Slamming the knife down on the cutting board, Kathryn turned to face him. "Okay, then when, David? When are we going to do anything to fix our marriage? You leave, then you come back and say you're going to try, and then you avoid me like I'm some kind of monster. You spend hours going off on walks to God knows where, and I let it happen, but I'm not going to do it anymore. I'm your wife, David, and I'm _not_ going to lose you."

He was staring at her, stunned, not at her face, but at the arm she'd been waving about in her frustration.

"What's that on your wrist?"

"What? Nothing. Forget it," Kathryn snapped, attempting to pull her sleeve down over it.

Walking over to her in his long stride, David was able to cross the kitchen before she could manage it. Grabbing and turning over her hand, he found himself looking straight at three short, deep cuts, crisscrossing her inner wrist not unlike his own scars crisscrossed his shoulder.

Stunned, horrified, and desperately hoping his first assumption was wrong, David looked up to look Kathryn in the eye. "Kathryn... what happened? What did you do?"

Considering the circumstances, the smile that crossed Kathryn's face was altogether disturbing. There was an eerie calmness to her voice as she responded.

"Just an accidental cut, don't worry. I got clumsy with the knife. I've been chopping so many vegetables. I was thinking we could have stew tonight"

"There's three cuts here."

"Everything's okay. There's nothing to worry about. Because I'm not going to lose you. Right, David?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: There is a storyline planned for upcoming chapters featuring a twist that will change everything. I often find the most difficult thing when writing fan fiction is writing the characters in such a way that it stays realistic, and I often find myself asking why certain characters would act this way when I write them. And there's those rare times when it feels like the actual character is telling <span>you<span>, rather than you writing the character. I had one of those moments when brainstorming the other night, and the twist that comes with this character's actions and motivations is going to make this story infinitely more complex than I'd imagined when I first began telling this story, so you can get excited about that. **_

_**I'll be trying to get the next chapter written as quickly as possible, as with the way I have things planned right now, a lot will be revealed in this coming chapter. Reviews continue to make me write faster (and I'm so excited to write this one). **_

_**Please know that I desperately hope that I did not offend anyone with the final scene of this chapter. I tried to write it another way, but nothing else seemed to fit. After what Kathryn saw last chapter, she is desperate to hold onto David. **_

_**And know only this... things are not all as they seemed. **_

_**Thanks, as always, for reading. **_


	9. Changing Game

**_Author's Note: Not much of a response to last chapter, which makes me assume that you, my lovely readers didn't enjoy it much. I hope that the following gets you back into this story. We've got a massive twist coming here. And though there's not much explanation yet - that will come next chapter - I hope that this chapter will provide you with some understanding that there wasn't for last chapter. _**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight: Changing Game<strong>

Reality was a bitter shock to Mary Margaret's system, once it came.

She'd been able to enjoy the happiness of what had been the best weekend she could remember for a little while longer after getting back to her apartment just before lunch. She'd walked in the door with a joyful smile on her face, that had only spread wider to find Emma sitting on the couch with the newspaper in her hands, a mug of steaming coffee on the table beside her, and Laci sitting in her lap looking for all the world like she belonged there.

Giddy. That was the word for it. Mary Margaret Blanchard felt giddy, and it was a feeling that she was coming quickly to associate with David and Emma, because if not for them, she'd never had experienced it.

"There's coffee in the pot," Emma drawled, amusement written all over her pretty features.

Mary felt the colour rise to her cheeks as she murmured her thanks while letting Amy off leash. The lab, having quite enjoyed her long morning out, was quite happy to run into the corner of the room where her bed was, and promptly busy herself with a chew toy. With a smile for the dog - and without another word to her roommate, Mary headed into the kitchen. Emma hadn't really said anything - yet - but Mary knew she was in for it.

Emma waited for the perfect opportunity - Mary having just taken her first sip of her coffee, light and sweet as always - before commenting. "You have a nice, quiet, insignificant, all by your lonesome - with no handsome charming men to delay you - and thus completely innocent walk with Amy?"

Mary choked on her coffee. Emma's smirk almost became an entity onto itself.

Recovering quickly, Mary delivered back a smirk of her own. "Yes, it was nice."

Emma's laugh filled the room, and Mary could've sworn she felt her heart swell at the sound.

* * *

><p>Now comfortably seated beside Emma, Mary reached over to scratch the cat, who responded with a quiet purr. The sound of it made both women smile, and Mary turned to Emma. "She seems to have warmed up to the new situation."<p>

Emma chuckled. "Yes, seems that way. And quicker than you'd think. I woke up this morning to her lying on my pillow with me. She cuddled in good at some point last night."

"Doesn't surprise me at all, actually. She warmed fastest to you when we were at the shelter. I think you're her favourite."

The easy smile on Emma's face turned self-depreciating as she quipped, "That'd be a first."

"Em," Mary sighed.

A blonde eyebrow raised challengingly. "Come on, Mare. With what I've told you of my life, you think I've ever been anyone's favourite before?"

"You're Henry's."

Emma looked away, slightly stunned. She didn't argue further.

* * *

><p>"So if Laci was with you all night, and still there when you woke up this morning... what time did you wake up?"<p>

"Ten. Stop avoiding, Blanchard. Talk. Walking a dog does not take hours. Unless the outing is much, much more than just getting the dog some exercise."

"She's a big, super energetic dog. Needs a lot of exercise."

The laugh lit up Emma's eyes even as she tried to appear stern.

"Mare. Come on. It's me. You know I'm not going to judge. What happened?"

Mary sighed, caught in that timeless dilemma of a woman falling in love, that in which she simultaneously wants to keep those precious moments to herself, secret treasures; and at the same time wanting share them with anyone willing to listen, in the ever-there human condition of desire to share the little happinesses of life with the world.

Mary surrendered. "I invited David to come with us on our walk. He did. We had a nice time."

Emma gawked. "That's it? You come in almost two hours after I woke up - and who knows how long you were gone before I was aware of it - and you're practically floating on air and all I get is NICE?"

The smirk from before returned to Mary's face in full force. "Nah. It was fun to see your reaction though."

This time, when the pillow went flying, it was from Emma's side to Mary.

* * *

><p>"Ames woke me up around seven needing to go out..."<p>

"Seven? What the heck? You've been gone since dawn?"

Mary whacked Emma gently with the pillow she was now holding. "Are you going to let me tell you or no?"

"Does regular commentary qualify as not letting you tell me? Because I need the sarcastic comments. They're an important feature of being friends with me."

Considering, Mary eyed Emma. "Semi-regular commentary I'll allow. Best I can do."

"I'll take it. So, dawn on a Sunday morning, you weirdo?"

Mary laughed lightly. "Hey. A dog needs out, she needs out. The timing's not a big consideration on their part. And our dog needed out. I got dressed, took her outside - I was just going to go for a short walk around the neighbourhood, but the morning was just so perfect, so peaceful. It felt like I was the only one awake in the world. Just me and my dog, and while that was such a nice feeling, when it comes to having moments where it's just me and Amy, it feels like David should be there too. I still think of her as his dog, that we're just kind of..."

"Providing the home where he can't. I get it. His dog."

"Our dog. He's quite insistent about that," Mary murmured, with a smile that revealed how much it meant to her that he felt that way.

"Hearts appearing in your eyes, Mare. Focus, I need story. More story."

"Fine. Story. I realized I wanted to spend the time with him, but tried to talk myself out of it for about eight minutes - I wasn't counting though - and finally gave up on that and texted him to come meet us by the Bridge. He showed up... more like appeared out of no where. He scared the crap out of me actually."

"Hope you gave him hell for that."

"He charmed his way out of it."

"So damn sappy."

"Says the girl begging for every detail of my romantic morning."

"So it _was_ romantic then? Well, you must continue so that I may live vicariously through you."

"Wouldn't have picked you for a romantic."

"Not really a romantic," Emma smiled wistfully, "But I believe in love when I see it. And Mare... I'm seeing you and David are falling into it."

Mary stared at Emma wordlessly. The irrepressible smirk came to Emma's face once more. "And I _may_ have a secret appreciation of the little moments that come in and with the falling. When it's real, anyway. And it's real with you two. So tell me more."

Thrown, Mary attempted to gather herself. It was funny - she'd known all along that she was falling for David - so much faster than made any rational sense - but she'd never let herself think of what she was falling _into_. Love. Was she falling in love with David? Could what she was feeling for him, this _need _to just be near him, all the time, was that what love felt like? And if that was the case... how could the feeling have been so intense from the start? She'd needed him from the moment she met him, needed him even when she found out he was married. _Married_. She was falling in love with a married man, and that was so not right. That lovely, perfect, wonderful morning she'd had with David - it was wrong.

It just didn't feel that way. It felt wonderfully, perfectly right. Still did. And that was even more wrong.

Mary buried her hand in her hands. "What am I doing, Em?"

Worried at the sudden change in emotion obvious in her friend, Emma reached out to put a hand on Mary's shoulder. "Okay, so we're not doing the romantic story thing anymore?"

Mary's laugh was half a sob. "No. Not when the romantic thing is wrong. I am a horrible, horrible person."

"Didn't we cover this a long time ago? You are definitely not a horrible person."

"I'm in love with a married man. That qualifies as pretty horrible in my books, at least in Kathryn's perspective. What am I doing to her?"

Watching Mary carefully, Emma picked her next question with care. "Are you doing any of this intentionally to hurt Kathryn?"

Mary looked up to stare at her. "Of course not."

"Then you're not a horrible person. You're a person who... God, Mary. If there's one thing I've figured out in life it's that people can't help what they feel."

"Even if what I feel is hurting someone else?"

Emma sighed, frustrated for the pain she could see on her friend's face. "Mary. This isn't... If this was some one-sided thing... it's not, though. David feels as strongly, as desperately for you. He cares for Kathryn. He's in love with you, or getting there. And the most unfair thing to all of you would be for him to stay with Kathryn for no other reason other than the fact that she's his wife."

_She is _not _his wife. _The sentiment, half snarled, overtook Mary's conscious thought in a way that she'd never quite experienced before, and with it brought a wave of fury that she felt quite removed from.

Stunned, Mary recoiled, then jumped off the couch, caught in a blind panic. She couldn't hear Emma's frightened questions, threats to call for help. The apartment, her roommate, the pets - both riled up from their respective previously relaxed states, Amy having come over in that instinctive way animals had of trying to calm their owners - disappeared from Mary's vision. Everything was blurred to the point of disappearing, as all Mary could see was black, and all she could hear were things that didn't make any sense - _He's our husband Mary, not hers, you know this, you _know _this, fight it, let me out! _

The slap across her face was hard enough to cause ringing in her ears, but it snapped her out of it. Emma's terrified face was the first thing she saw, followed quickly by the pets - both staring at her, and then the whole of her living room after that. Nothing was different. Nothing had changed. Everything was normal.

_What the _hell_ just happened? _

The question in Mary's own mind was echoed perfectly by Emma's out loud, and Mary, hearing the shake in Emma's voice, hated herself, hated whatever was happening to her. It was bad enough what it was doing to her. But Emma had been through something too similar with Graham for Mary to have ever wanted to put her through anything that would cause her fear.

"Mary?"

"I don't... I'm okay now, Em. I promise. But I don't know what just happened there."

"That's it?" Emma choked back a sob. "You go into some kind of fit, you're unresponsive for five minutes, I get you back by _slapping_ you as hard as I can, and all you can tell me is that you're okay?"

"I am now," Mary whispered, "Or as okay as I can be anyway. I wasn't then. I don't know what happened, I don't understand it. Something in me snapped when you called Kathryn David's wife, and what happened after that didn't make any sense. I can't even attempt to explain it."

Calmer now that she could see that Mary did seem to be alright now, a sharp, determined, steely note entered Emma's voice. "Try."

Infuriated, terrified, and frustrated beyond belief, Mary snapped. "I have thoughts and memories that aren't mine, but I experience them anyway. How do you begin to try and explain something like that? You say something normal, something true, something I know to be fact - Kathryn is David's wife - and something blows up in my head trying to convince me it's all lies. It's insane. I know it is, and now you know it too."

Emma took a couple calming breaths. What Mary was saying wasn't rational, and it frightened her, but belaying her fear in her response was not going to help Mary in any way.

"Do - do you think what you're experiencing is related to the problems with your memory that you were talking about the other day?"

Mary froze, then deflated. "I don't know. Maybe. Probably. It's all crap anyway, so it's probably linked."

Unable to stop herself, Emma snorted. "Even with all this going on, that spunk of yours that only showed up when you decided to start fighting for David is still shining through, Mare. He's good for you. The circumstances might be a little messed up, but there's no denying that..."

"That I need him," Mary murmured, suddenly as calm as she'd been earlier, when she and Emma were in the middle of nice, normal girl talk. That just the thought of him could sooth her so... "I need to talk to him."

Watching with a slight smile as Mary grabbed her phone, Emma excused herself, and snuck off to her own room, Laci trailing behind her.

While dialing David's cell number - from memory - Mary watched her roommate and her cat go, then turned to Amy, just in time to see the dog settle in beside her. "Moral support?" Mary asked the dog in a murmur.

When Amy barked gently twice Mary was somehow unsurprised.

* * *

><p>David Nolan had been having a really, really good day. Best since he'd woken up, probably. Being able to spend so much uninterrupted time alone with Mary did that. Made him happy, and made him realize, finally, what the right thing to do - for everyone involved - was.<p>

He needed to leave Kathryn. He needed to stop hurting her by staying in a marriage that he vaguely remembered bits and pieces of, but could no longer feel. He wasn't in love with Kathryn. Couldn't be. Not when he was so hopelessly, irrationally, wonderfully in love with Mary.

His feelings for Mary didn't make logical sense. That's how he knew it was right. Logic wasn't getting him anywhere. What he had *thought* was right didn't work. How he felt... that's what he needed to go on.

He'd walked into that kitchen, prepared to tell Kathryn, prepared to leave. What he was going to say, he'd had no idea, but he knew what he had to do.

And then everything went to hell.

Kathryn was - well, the idea that she would hurt herself like that was horrifying, and the knowledge that it was his fault staggered him. He'd never, ever wanted to hurt anyone - but by trying to do the honourable thing when his heart wasn't in it had only tortured everyone involved. Kathryn could sense his absence, his withdrawal from her - of course she could, he was barely _there_ even in the rare time that he was at home. And now -

He didn't even want to think of it.

He'd convinced Kathryn to go and take a nap, promised that he wasn't going anywhere. And he wasn't. Couldn't. She'd begged him to stay, wounds she'd inflicted to herself still shining with blood on the wrist above the hand she'd gripped at his shirt with. He'd done this to her.

He couldn't do more.

So he sat on the floor outside the bedroom that was supposed to be his, and stared at his phone, wondering how in the world he was going to explain to Mary, and startled when the phone lit up with its ring, the caller ID showing Mary's number.

_Damn it. _

He walked into the room he'd been staying in and shut the door, trusting that Kathryn was safely asleep in the other room.

"Mare," he breathed into the phone when answering it, the warmth filling his voice even as he tried to contain it. _What was she doing to him? What was he doing to her? _

"David, I'm so glad you answered. I really needed to talk to you, to hear your voice. I um... I had another one of those moments, and it was worse than before, worse than it's ever been. Emma was there, and I _terrified _her, David. After everything she went through with Graham, the fact that she had to see - I don't even know what it must have looked like to her, just that I don't ever want her to feel frightened like that. But how can I protect her when I'm the cause of her fear, and when I'm so damn afraid myself?"

David slid down against the wall to the floor, his head resting against his knees even as he continued to hold the phone to his ear. Mary needed him. Emma probably did too. He remembered what Mary had looked like when she'd blanked out in front of him earlier today - she'd just been gone, the blankness in her eyes had been horrifying - and if this one was worse, after what Emma had been through, to see something similar happen to her best friend must have been a special kind of torture... They needed him. He needed them. Desperately, he needed to be there with them, to help them, to protect them. If something was happening to Mary, he needed to be there to keep her safe.

He couldn't go.

"David?"

His silence was telling, and David knew that Mary could tell something was desperately wrong. The worry crept into her voice. "David, what's wrong?"

He answered with a pained, frustrated groan first, as he wondered if this all was a special torture designed especially for him. "Mary. Something's happened with Kathryn. She's - I don't know. I don't know if she's had a breakdown, or what happened, but she... she cut herself, Mare."

Mary's answering gasp was horrified.

"I was going to end it, Mare. For all of us. I need to be with you, and Kathryn needs to be freed from a life with a husband who doesn't love her. But now..."

"You can't leave her," Mary realized, and her voice did not like sound like her own. Shock had changed it, roughened it, and he realized with horror that she was crying.

"Mary... I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Mary responded, trying to force a smile into her voice through her tears. "I understand. You're a good man for it. You wouldn't be you if you left anyway."

David was fighting tears of his own as he replied. "Don't... don't give up on me yet. Please don't give up on me. I don't know how now... but we'll find a way."

On the other end, Mary smiled for real this time. "David... I couldn't give up on you if I tried. I'm still here."

David's sigh of relief was audible. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I am. I've got Em. You just worry about Kathryn."

"You call if you need me. I'm still here too."

"I know. I will. I'll see you, David."

"See you, Mare."

Both hanging up at the same time, David stared at his phone for a moment, then slid it away from him across the hardwood floor of the room, resisting the temptation to toss the thing into the wall. Burying his head in his hands - unaware of how strikingly similar his pose was to Mary's a couple neighbourhoods away - he sighed. "Damn it, damn it, damn it."

Having been listening outside the door the entire time, Kathryn shook, her fear nearly overtaking her. David was staying, but against his will. Only his sense of honour was keeping him with her.

Desperate measures were needed, she knew. She would be paying the town's schoolteacher a visit tomorrow.

* * *

><p>It had been a very, very long day at work. Mary had not slept well - if not sleeping at all qualified as not sleeping well - and her concentration was impacted. She'd planned for that, thankfully, with a number of individual work exercises for her students, including a lot of reading. Her students hadn't really noticed anything was up with their teacher- thank God - save for Henry, who kept shooting her worried looks. <em>The boy understood too much for his own good<em>.

The end of day bell finally rang, and Mary watched the majority of her students file quickly out of the room, and smiled as Henry walked towards her desk, eyes wide.

"What can I do for you, Henry?" she asked, intentionally injecting a cheerful note into her voice and overdoing it obviously. She barely hid her own wince at the sound of it.

"What's wrong... Mary?" The boy whispered her first name as if afraid of somebody else hearing and getting him in trouble, and the smile that came to Mary's face was real this time because of it.

"Nothing's wrong, Henry. I'm just tired. I really appreciate your concern, but I'm okay."

Henry smiled at her. "I don't believe you, but okay. If you can't tell me I understand. But talk to my Mom, alright? She makes things better."

Mary laughed. "You're right, Henry. Thank you. Have a good night."

Henry left the room with a wave, and Mary turned back to the lesson plans for the rest of the week that she'd been working on while her students read quietly. She definitely did not want to be out of sorts all week, and she wasn't planning on being so, but she'd best be prepared with some activities for the kids that would allow for some quiet moments during the day.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Blanchard," came a voice from the doorway.

Mary looked up, startled, even more so to see the blonde now standing in her classroom.

"Kathryn."

* * *

><p>The two women simply stared each other for awhile in something of a standoff, neither completely sure what to say. Mary broke the silence first.<p>

"How are you, Kathryn?"

Kathryn sucked in a breath for a light, obvious sigh. "I've been better, Ms. Blanchard. But you know that, don't you?"

"I..."

"Well, let's see. I know that you know about my little accident, because I heard David on the phone with you."

"Kathryn..."

"Oh, no big deal, don't worry about that. It's lovely that he has someone to talk to. I'm just not sure it should be you. Because let's see, what else do I know? Ah, yes. Tell me, Ms. Blanchard. When exactly did you fall in love with David?"

To say that Mary was stunned would be a terrible understatement. She felt frozen, unsure what to do or say. "I..."

"No need to deny it, dear, we both know it's true. I saw the two of you together by the bridge yesterday morning."

"You saw..."

"Oh, of course. David's little walks by himself got so tiresome, long ago. I figured it was about time I found out what he was doing. So when he went off at the crack of dawn, I followed him. You two were quite sweet, actually. I'm a romantic, so I can appreciate such moments. Usually. Not when it's David sharing them with another woman."

Finding her voice, barely, Mary stuttered. "I am so sorry, Kathryn. I - neither of us ever meant to hurt you, please, please believe that."

"But I do, sweet little Ms. Blanchard. I fully believe that neither one of you are capable of intentionally trying to hurt me. But you did. And when I left after your cute little dog pulled you off - I suppose that was the mutt David couldn't shut up about, yes? Anyway, I left, and went home, and I knew that I had to stop this. You two with your sickeningly sweet little love story certainly weren't going to. What could I do, but appeal to the one thing that David may want more than you, and that's his desperate desire to be an honourable man."

"What are you saying?"

"Oh, you know what I'm saying, don't you, Mary? I can call you Mary now, right? I feel like we're all good friends now. And since we're such good friends, I'll tell you a little secret. We both know how badly David wishes to be a good, honourable man. And good, honourable men do not leave women in the middle of mental breakdowns. So I did what I had to do, and I faked one."

"You... what?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, dear," Kathryn sighed, pulling up her sleeve to stare at her wrist, "The cutting hurt. It had to happen though. He's staying - just as we both knew he would."

Mary found herself fighting tears as she stared disbelievingly at Kathryn, who'd always seemed to her to be a nice enough woman. She could not believe that Kathryn was capable of such cruelty.

"You can't do this to him," Mary cried, "He's so worried about you. My God, I know what we did was unfair to you..."

"Unfair?" Kathryn snapped, all pretense of civility gone. "You think your little affair was merely unfair to me?"

"It's not an affair. We've been friends... Yes, I wanted more, but we never... We took it too far, once, yesterday, that's what you saw, but Kathryn, I haven't been sleeping with him, I haven't, we haven't... we wouldn't have done that to you, Kathryn."

"It's interesting to me how desperately you try to justify what you're doing. Guilt, perhaps? Remorse? Regret?"

Mary's fired, vanished until now, suddenly appeared violently in her eyes. "_No_."

"No, what?"

"No, I do not regret a moment I've spent with David. I _love_ him, Kathryn. And if you could do something like this to him, then it seems quite clear to me that you do not."

"You do not know anything, Ms. Blanchard. He is my husband."

A blind rage had overtaken Mary then, and the words exploded out of her before she had any idea of what was happening. "_He. Is. Mine._"

Kathryn stared at Mary, stunned silent. _Her eyes... _

Mary had frozen. Those words... they weren't hers. She hadn't meant to say them. Whatever was happening to her... whatever other personality she may have... she had lost control over it.

"I'm sorry." Mary murmured, desperately, while stumbling to gather her things, shove them into her bag. Her hands were shaking. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't know what just happened. I have to go. I have to go now."

Mary ran out the door before the blonde could do anything to stop her.

Walking to the classroom's doorway, she watched Mary run down the hall and out the main door to the school. The teacher hadn't been the only one shaking - she herself could feel every part of her body shaking as pure terror overtook her.

"Oh God," she cried to herself. "Oh, God, Oh God. _Snow_."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: Oh, did I forget to mention earlier that Kathryn is not actually Kathryn, but Abigail, because *she* remembers FTL? Whoops, silly me. <strong>_

_**Okay, so hands up everyone who saw that coming, because I must congratulate you, because I certainly didn't. It was never part of my plan for this story to have Abigail remember - but like I said last chapter, I was brainstorming, trying to figure out a character's motivations - *why* would Kathryn do this? - and it was like Abigail waltzed into my head, her character fully formed (I don't think the show has done nearly the kind of development of her character that I'll be trying to portray in future chapters) and announcing, "Because I'm not Kathryn, silly." **_

_**If you have no idea how this could possibly be, don't worry. We'll be hearing from Abigail a lot next chapter, as she explains what the hell is going on. For now, all you need to remember is that all is never completely as it seems - at least, not in a OUAT fic, with all the worlds and lives we have to play with. **_

_**Let me know what you think of this twist - get me even more pumped to write next chapter, because I am so excited already. **_

_**Thanks, as always, for reading. **_


	10. Abigail

**_Author's Note: It's been a long time between updates, I know. But I'm hoping my lovely readers will forgive me, with this chapter: by far the longest so far, and my first time ever venturing into the Fairy Tale side of OUAT fanfiction. Enjoy. _  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine: Abigail <strong>

_It was supposed to have fixed everything. Bringing Frederick back. Breaking his curse. Restoring their love, his safety, her happiness. Relieving her father's guilt. Repairing that relationship, broken by the fact that her father had never been the same, never been able to quite look her in the eye, no matter how many times she had told him that she didn't blame him. _

_It was supposed to fix _everything_, And she'd thought it would, thought it had. After James had so heroically brought the enchanted water to her, after it had broken Frederick's curse, after she was with her love one more, everything was as it should be. _

_That is, until they had made it back to her father's castle, after having sent James off on his journey to find Snow White. She had practically skipped into the chamber that she had known her father would be in, attending to the day's final meetings with his advisors. _

_Midas had looked up, startled - the version of Abigail he was seeing was one that he hadn't seen in many months, a lighter, happier Abigail, a giggling girl, delighted with life. She hadn't been that way, that lovely, exuberant, wide-eyed, innocent girl since before Frederick had - _

_And then, impossibly, Frederick had followed his daughter into the chamber. _

_Her father had fallen silent, stunned. He was staring at Frederick, disbelievingly, and with her joy colouring all that she saw, she failed to read her father's response properly, giddily jumping around like a prepubescent, _foolish_ girl. _

"_It was James, Daddy!" she thrilled, "I asked Prince James for help, and he agreed. He ventured to Lake Nostos for me, and Daddy, he survived, and he brought back the enchanted waters from the lake, and I poured it on Frederick, and he's back, my love is back..." _

_Frederick smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Watching Midas in a way that Abigail wasn't, he could see that something was wrong. "Abby," he murmured, chiding, trying to calm her in a way that only he had ever been capable of. _

_His talent for calming her, however, had always been good for getting her out of rages, not the kind of joy that bubbled, and for one small moment, she paid her love no mind, wanting her father to know what the neighbouring prince had done for her, the debt she now felt she owed him, the kind of debt that would never be fully paid, regardless of how he would surely claim otherwise. _

"_James is a hero, Daddy. I don't understand how he did it - no one has ever survived the lake's demon before, but he somehow defeated it, like he defeated that monstrous dragon, and he gave Frederick back to me. We must do something for him, honour him... We must align with him to defeat the evil Queen Regina and reunite him with..."_

"_Abigail!" Frederick bit off, sharply, wary of how much they should tell her father. Unfortunately, his scolding came too late for Abigail's words to not catch her father's attention. _

"_Reunite him?" Midas tried, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. "With whom? What of your betrothal?" _

_Abigail's glow diminished as she blinked up at her father, confused. "Daddy, I'm not going to marry James, of course. Frederick is back! I'm going to be with him as I'd always planned, as we'd always planned." _

"_But my deal with George..." _

"_There is no deal with King George anymore! We've ended the engagement. James is in love with another, and I wish him all the happiness in the world, as I will have, with Frederick! You cannot force a marriage upon us that neither of us want, especially now that Frederick's back. I can marry him, Daddy. I can be happy! We can all be happy again... You are happy, aren't you?"_

_Forcing a smile to his face, Midas looked down at his papers, glanced at his advisors, looked anywhere that wasn't his daughter, or the one he had been so sure for so long that he had killed._

"_Of course, my darling girl," Midas muttered, his voice joyless, bitterly contradicting his words. "Whatever makes you happy. It pleases me to have you back in the kingdom, Frederick." _

_Frederick glanced at Abigail, who was staring at her father, blank, and suddenly mute. Barely loud enough to be heard, he murmured, "Thank you, Your Majesty. It is an honour to be back." _

"_Indeed. But now, I must ask that the two of you take your leave. I have further business I need to attend to with council." _

_Having found her voice, and her notorious temper, Abigail snapped. "It's Frederick's first night back Daddy! We must celebrate, we must call for some fine wine and..."_

_Frederick placed a hand on Abigail's lower back and began steering her from the room. "It is not necessary. I am feeling quite tired and stiff anyway. I think that lying down would be the best thing for me now." _

"_Of course," Midas responded, carefully. "Have one of the maids prepare you chambers. Mistress Serafina would be honoured, I am sure," as he spared a glance for the young woman placing down a plate of cheeses and breads before Midas' council. _

"_Of course. I would be delighted to. Follow me, if you please, Sir Frederick, Princess Abigail." _

"_But -" _

"_Leave it alone," Frederick hissed in his beloved's ear. "Something's wrong, we must go."_

_Walking out of the chamber, Frederick stopping just short of dragging her, Abigail choked back a sob. _

_It was supposed to have fixed _everything_, bringing her love, her kingdom's hero back to them. She was supposed to have gotten the two most important people in her life back. _

_But somehow, she'd finally realized, she'd only gotten one. _

* * *

><p><em>She'd never given up on Frederick. Not once. She had kissed his statue, his golden tomb, until her lips had bled, just as she had told James. When that had failed - and that it could have bewildered her, True Love's Kiss was supposed to break every curse - she had begun searching for other miracles, other magic. Upon learning of the existence of Lake Nostos, of its legendary powers, she'd determined that its waters were the solution, but knew that she herself could never defeat its demon. <em>

_Thinking of how she had manipulated James still haunted her to this day. She'd never repay the debt she owed him, regardless of how many times he told her otherwise. He'd gotten everything he'd wanted out of the deal, he'd insist. They both had. He had no regrets, and neither should she, he'd tell her. _

_Snow had never agreed, Abigail remembered with a fond smile. The raven haired beauty had flown into a fury when she had been told that particular story, a fury born of fear. James, stubborn as ever, had reassured her that there was nothing to be concerned for, he'd escaped unharmed, and besides - that slightly cocky note entering his voice - he'd faced, and won, against much more fearsome beasts than a simple Siren. _

_Snow's eyes had turned to slits. _

"_I know of the Siren of Lake Nostos, _Charming_. Rather than simply bewitching, or seducing, as most creatures of that ilk tend to, the Nostos water demon transforms into that which is wanted most by its would-be attacker. It's why no one had ever survived before. The illusion of one's greatest desire is a powerfully tempting one." _

_Abigail had glanced between the pair, who were locked into a staring contest of which it seemed there would never be a winner. "I'd never known that," she'd gasped, interrupting. "I didn't know the creature was so powerful." _

_Neither Snow or James had paid Abigail any mind. They were both distracted by watching each other. "What happened when you faced the demon, Charming?" _

_James finally looked away, a slight flush having overtaken his handsome features, amazing Abigail. She'd never, ever known the confident prince to be embarrassed... but then again, she'd never seen him with Snow before. _

_James swallowed. "It turned into you," he whispered. "And it was a very... seductive illusion. It told me..." _

_The look on Snow's face had softened, somehow, where Abigail would have expected more rage. _

"_Told you what, Charming?" _

"_It told me it - you - loved me," he sighed, "And given everything that had happened between us... it was so easy to fall for its spell, so easy to just trust that everything I wanted most was finally happening. I wanted so badly to believe you loved me, that to hear your voice say it..." _

_Snow was staring at James like she never wanted to allow him out of her sight again. "How... how in the world did you escape?" _

_James smiled then, his love for Snow so obvious in his eyes, in his whole expression that it almost felt indecent for Abigail to look upon it, and though she wanted to look away, she felt transfixed by the look being exchanged by the two. _

"_I figured out it wasn't real," he murmured. "The creature could tell me everything I wanted to hear with your voice, could look exactly like you, but it wasn't you. It wasn't love, wasn't what I'd felt when it *was* you, was us. And I needed *that*, what I felt when it was you, what I feel when I look at you know. Once I figured that out... I was able to fight, to kill the thing and escape, when no one ever had. Because I figured out what was real, while all the others didn't. And Snow, you're the only thing that's ever been real to me." _

_Snow's eyes had filled with tears, but the blinding smile that took over her whole face belayed the emotion behind them. _

"_And you knew that even then, when I had so recently told you I didn't love you." _

"_Yes. I think that's actually how I was able to figure out the Siren wasn't really you, was able to escape. It kept telling me it loved me, but when it didn't feel right, didn't feel the same... I realized that it was love when I was with you, and that we both were part of it. I knew then I had to escape, to go after you, fight for *you*, not the illusion of you. Because I suddenly understood that when you told me you didn't love me, that was the only real lie you'd ever told me - the only one I'd actually fallen for, anyway. I couldn't realize it until then, but I'd felt it when you showed up, and I ran to you... you held on so tight, so desperately..." _

"_I never wanted to let go. I was so desperate, but I couldn't think of another way to keep you safe. I hurt us both so badly..." _

"_Hey, it's alright. Whatever we went through, it got us here." _

"_I just can't bare to think of you in danger. Even in the past." _

"_Ah. Well, I won't tell you the part when I had to face the sorceress Maleficent in her dragon form then." _

_Abigail had begun tiptoeing away, shamed to have not left earlier. This moment did not involve her, hadn't for some time. _

_Though, the indignant shriek heard behind her did send her flying into a fit of giggles. Prince James would certainly have his hands full with the lovely, protective, warrior princess Snow White. _

_They'd settled down for supper a few short hours later, and Abigail had felt Snow's stare upon her the entire time they'd eaten. Snow had calmed with James, and if anything, the affection between them had only grown stronger. But, Abigail knew, as she finally plucked up the courage to look up and stare right back at Snow, the other princess had unfinished business with herself. _

_She'd excused herself quickly after finishing her meal, insisted that Frederick - deep in conversation with James - did not need to accompany her, she was perfectly fine on her own for a little while. She had wandered down to the gardens, some of the most stunning in the kingdom, per James' insistence (Snow was so used to living amongst nature, he would not have anything less than a beautiful garden for Snow to spend her days in, should she wish). Finding a bench shortly into her exploration, she sat down to wait. _

_Snow did not leave her waiting long. _

"_Snow," Abigail welcomed, pointing out the seat next to her, a cautious smile on her face. "Please, sit with me." _

_Snow received the greeting with one eyebrow raised, but took the seat offered. "You knew I would seek you out, to speak with you alone."_

"_Yes," Abigail agreed. _

"_You knew I was unhappy with you." _

"_I did." _

"_And yet you did not avoid me." Snow's words were not a question. _

"_No. I didn't. We needed to speak. I owe you that much. There was no sense in delaying the inevitable" _

"_Earns you points though." _

_Abigail sighed. "We both know any points I may have gained by not avoiding this discussion will be lost quickly to the topic of it. You are angry with me, and you have every right to be." _

"_You manipulated him." Snow's accusation was biting, quick and to the point, and stung all the more for it. _

_Abigail found that she could not hide her wince. "I did." _

_The shock Snow felt at how easily Abigail admitted it showed in her eyes, but she pressed on, determined. "He can't see that. He trusted you so easily, he couldn't - can't - see how you were using him." _

_Abigail looked away, not wanting the other princess to see the shame in her eyes. "Honourable men are often easily manipulated, I've found." _

_Snow closed her eyes in tacit agreement. "And James is as honourable as they come."_

"_He is. Probably the best man I've ever met." _

_The fire in Snow's eyes sparked. "And you sent him into a situation in which you knew there was a possibility, hell you probably expected that he would be killed." _

"_He had defeated the dragon plaguing my kingdom. I knew that he was more likely than any other to survive..." _

"_That doesn't answer me." _

"_I didn't _expect_ him to be killed. I never would have let him go if I did..." _

"_Semantics. Did you _expect_ him to survive, to return, to succeed?" _

_Abigail bit her bottom lip. She wanted desperately to be completely honest with Snow, but in order to do that, she needed to admit something she hadn't, even to herself. _

"_No," she whispered. "I was amazed when he made it back. Amazed, and so grateful, Snow, you have to believe that. I will never be able to repay the debt I owe him..." _

"_No. You won't." _

_At the sharpness in Snow's voice, Abigail tensed, and fell silent. Snow's glare felt as though it would pierce right through her, until the younger woman sighed, and looked away. _

_Abigail looked up then, to find that Snow was staring into the rose bushes, and she sensed that the other woman was unable to look at her any longer. This instinct felt worse than the glare had, and the biting sting of her own shame intensified. _

"_You didn't mean for him to die. But you had accepted that he likely would anyway, in attempt to save _your _beloved?" The flatness in Snow's voice was audible, and Abigail shuddered to think of herself in Snow's place, trying to understand a situation in which another woman had placed her beloved in harm's way. _

_Abigail swallowed, then looked Snow directly in the eye. "Yes. Yes, to all of it. I had gotten enough of a sense of James to know that he is one of the best people I would ever have the opportunity to know. I know that men who are that good, that honourable, can easily be manipulated into doing what they believe is the 'right' thing. I knew if I told him Frederick's story, told him of a possible solution, that he would volunteer to venture on the quest to obtain that solution. I knew of the risks. I knew it was unlikely that he would succeed, that no one had survived Nostos before. I was desperate enough to get him to go anyway. I valued Frederick's life more than James'. And because he made it back, because he did succeed, I am sorry Snow, but I do not regret it." _

_Snow slowly let out the breath she had been holding as Abigail spoke, then buried her head in her hands. "Okay," she murmured, the sound muffled. _

_Abigail froze, and turned to stare at the other woman. "Okay?" _

_Pulling her head back up, Snow returned Abigail's stare. "Okay. Look, I could hate you all I want for the danger you allowed James to put himself in, but I'm not a big fan of being a hypocrite. And if it came down to saving James... there is _nothing_ I wouldn't do. Nothing I wouldn't sacrifice. He's everything. And if that's how you feel about Frederick, then I am rather limited in my ability to judge you."_

"_That's fairer than I deserve." _

"_Don't get me wrong, Abigail," Snow continued, "I _hate _that you allowed him to put himself in danger, but the fact is, he did put himself in danger. He did what he believed was the right thing, and when he gets 'the right thing' in his head, there's nothing and no one that could have stopped him. He's just that guy." _

"_You could have stopped him," Abigail contradicted gently. _

"_What?" _

"_You have to remember, at the time, he truly believed you when you had told him you didn't love him. It wasn't until after - or I guess during - his encounter with the Siren that he understood the truth. He was... he was heartbroken, Snow. And I'm ashamed to admit, I used that, used the fact that he was so lost... giving him a quest, a challenge, something to think about that wasn't you... it was an opportunity he grasped onto. But I have no doubt he wouldn't have taken the risk if he'd known the truth about you at the time. He wouldn't have done that to you, wouldn't have wanted to cause you fear for a second. The *only* reason he went for me, is because he didn't know he would have had you waiting for him." _

"_I hate that I hurt him so." _

"_I don't understand... why did you?" _

"_That's between James and I. You only need know that it was a lie. I have loved him from the day I met him. To this day, I love him more than anything or anyone else. His safety is the most important thing to me, the only thing more important than his happiness." _

"_Than you truly must understand how I feel about Frederick." _

"_Yes. I will always hate that James was in danger. But I can't hate _you_ for it. Not when I so understand the sentiment behind being willing to do anything for another person." _

_Abigail smiled, still carefully, but with more warmth to it than before. "So we're okay, then? Perhaps we could try at being friends?" _

_Snow stood to leave, her omnipresent smirk prominent on her face. "Stranger things have happened. As far as nags with bad attitudes go, I've met far worse." _

_Abigail's jaw dropped, amused. "Excuse me?" _

_Snow laughed, then began walking away. "If James hasn't told you, I'm not going to. Secrets between betrothed couples, you know how it is," she called over her shoulder. _

_Abigail lifted a hand in farewell, still bemused. "I should," she muttered, far too quietly for Snow to possibly have heard. _

* * *

><p><em>Prince James had come to be something of a brother to her, against all odds. And with him, his beautiful fiancee Snow had become the sister-in-law she'd never realized she'd enjoy having. The relationship was a strange one, as it must be for all sisters-in-law, she supposed. There was a fondness there, but with it, an uncertainty, something of a discomfort. Snow had forgiven the events that began Abigail's friendship with James, but she had never forgotten them, never would. <em>

_It was a quality that Snow shared with James, both having a desperate terror of harm coming to the other; both traumatized by the memories and stories of past situations where they had been unable to protect their love. James had been unable to so much as stomach apples being brought into the castle, and so Snow had developed a new fondness for peaches. Snow left the room every time the story of Frederick's rescue was brought up, James always following quickly after. They comforted each other, they supported each other, and they protected each other. They had each other's backs, always. And if it came right down to it, they would each willingly die for the other. _

_Abigail had never seen anything quite like it. Oh, she knew love, knew it well... But the Princess Snow White and Prince James were made for each other like no one she'd ever known, no one she'd ever even heard of. They both valued the other more than their own safety, own well-being. They'd sacrifice anything, even themselves, to keep the one they loved safe. _

_She could barely comprehend the courage inherent to such a love. They were, without a doubt, the two bravest people she'd ever met. _

_She wanted, very much, to live up to their example. _

_Things between she and her father had remained strained, at best. She had, probably naively she now realized, believed that saving Frederick would alleviate his guilt for everything that had happened, and their relationship would be restored to be as warm and loving as it once was, as magically as the enchanted waters dripping down Frederick, bring him back. _

_It hadn't happened. Midas would still not look her in the eye, and he barely had anything to do with Frederick at all. He'd granted permission for Frederick to rejoin the guard through the Head of the Command, by proxy. He hadn't even attended the ceremony re-knighting her beloved, and this snub had hurt them both deeply. James and Snow had made the effort to attend, and they weren't even of the kingdom. But her father... he'd been busy, he'd said. He was always busy, these days. Didn't have time for her the way he once did. During one of the rare moments she'd been able to speak with her father - eye contact not involved - he'd told her that the collapse of the negotiations with King George (her fault, was the clear implication) had been detrimental to their kingdom, more so than she could possibly understand. _

_That had stung. _

_So he'd been busy with his council, attending to other matters, other possible mergers, opportunities with kingdoms with access to plentiful resources - Midas's powers, after all, only allowed his kingdom an unlimited supply of gold, which, while valuable, was far from everything. He'd been too busy with these discussions to make time for a silly, frivolous little ceremony. So he'd said. _

_That would have been more understandable if the majority of council members hadn't been at the ceremony, the way they were. _

_They were a loyal bunch, council, Abigail supposed, and technically brilliant on matters of policy. Actually dealing with people, and _their _politics - all there was to life at court, basically - on the other hand, was not their strong suit. The King proclaims he can't possibly make time to stand on ceremony, for he has meetings with council to attend to, and council promptly goes and shows up for the ceremony without him. _

_It was enough to make Abigail want to laugh hysterically. If she didn't feel the need to cry more. _

_She couldn't have it. Couldn't stand for her relationship with her father, her _Daddy_ to go on this way. She had to fix it. Had to, for herself, and for Frederick. _

_She had to be brave. Like Snow and James. _

_There was nothing to fear anyway, she figured. _

_The waters of Lake Nostos weren't protected anymore. _

* * *

><p><em>She knew the paths to the enchanted lake better than the back of her hand. She'd ventured out here, many times, long before she'd ever told James of its possibilities. She'd never entered the lake herself, of course - knowing her own limits, she could never have survived it, never have defeated the guardian of the lake. But she'd venture just shy of its shores, and stare at the waters, wanting and wondering; and leave frustrated, wishing for more strength, more courage, or wishing for a friend who had both. <em>

_She wasn't so limited now. Now, it would simply be a matter of taking the waters for her own use. The difficult part would be getting her father to take it. Perhaps she could just dump it on him, she supposed, it worked on Frederick. Wouldn't go over well... but if it worked, and he became her Dad again, he'd find it hilarious. _

_They once laughed together all the time. _

_It was with this thought in mind, that Abigail arrived at the monument paying homage to the guardian of the lake. Paying it no mind - it was no longer necessary, after all - Abigail walked straight past it to the waters, as James once had. _

_It was stranger than she would have expected it to be at the lake, darker, more mystical, more frightening. She'd assumed the death of the Siren would have cleared the fog that she walked through now. Goosebumps broke out on her skin, though she wasn't at all cold. Known magic, she figured - she must be able to sense the enchantment of this place. _

_No sense delaying, however, and letting the air of the place creep her out. She drew a chalice from her bag, and immediately scooped some of the lake's waters into it. Simple, uncomplicated. She let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. _

_The water moved, rippled around her. It didn't make any sense, but someone was walking toward her. _

_She froze, more frightened than she could remember ever being, even when her family had fallen victim to attack, even when she'd watched her fiance slowly - so damn slowly - turn to gold. _

_Abigail looked up, terrified. _

_And found herself, for the first time in many months, staring straight into the eyes of her father. _

* * *

><p>"<em>Abigail," he murmured, so gently. "What are you doing?" <em>

_It was incomprehensible that he should be here. He so rarely left the castle at all anymore, and when he did, it was for meetings. This? This didn't make any sense. Her father looked so out of place here, she half wanted to giggle, half wanted to cry. He shouldn't be here. _

"_Daddy? How are you here?" _

_Her voice had shrunk, sounded like a little girl's. She hated it. _

"_My darling girl," he chided. She startled - he hadn't called her that, the loving, childhood nickname, since before everything had happened with Frederick. "Where else was I going to be, sweetheart? It's my job to protect you, keep you safe. I'm always going to be there for you." _

_At that, her eyes filled with tears. "But you haven't been, Daddy! I've needed you. All this time, I've needed you, and you were gone... there, but not, and I'd already lost Frederick. I couldn't handle losing my father too, but you weren't there anymore. All that time, I mourned Frederick without you. And then I brought him back, and all was as it should be, and STILL you weren't there." _

_Midas's wise eyes were regretful as he watched her. "I know. I failed you, darling, and it shames me terribly. If I could go back and change things then... but we can change things now, yes? That's why we're here. We can fix this, right now, standing in these waters." _

_He reached out his hands to her. She watched him, made note of the sincerity, the hope in his eyes. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she sighed, softly, bourn of relief. She'd waited for this moment for so long, and as little sense as it made that it should happen here, now, she wasn't going to complain. She reached out, and took her father's hands in her own. _

"_There's a good girl," he said with a smile, but there was something sinister to it, and it disturbed her, as she suddenly withdrew her hands and retreated a step. _

"_ABIGAIL!" the scream came from behind her, but she didn't turn to look, she was staring at her father's eyes, but they weren't her father's anymore, and she wanted to scream, and suddenly he was pushing her, and when she fell back into the lake and went to scream she was swallowing water before she could take a breath, and she was under water, gloved hand around her ankle, and she was going to die here, killed by the one who was her father but wasn't. _

_She surfaced, and it bewildered her that she could have, because the monster that had been her father had been holding her down. She gasped for air, and blinked water out of her eyes, and when she could see again, her father was no longer there, and nor was the shadow that had consumed him. _

_Snow White was standing in the lake before her, arms spread out protectively, white flowing dress soaked through and billowing in the violent wind, and Abigail had the errant thought that she looked like an avenging angel. She was staring at two figures, an older man, balding, and a woman, far younger, with wild curls so red they approached scarlet, and eyes a vibrant green, the kind of eyes that pierced right through you when used for a glare, and Abigail had experienced that exact glare enough from the raven haired woman protecting her, to know, just know that she was somehow, inexplicably, looking at Snow White's parents. _

* * *

><p>"<em>Snow," the woman gasped, "You've grown so. You're so beautiful, so perfect." <em>

"_Stop," Snow responded, her tone wary, pained. "This isn't real. I know that, so don't bother trying." _

"_But it is real," the man, King Leopold, replied. "You can see us, we're right here. All is as it should be, little one. We are here, we are with you, and there is nothing to fear anymore." _

"_There is _always_ something to fear," Snow cried, desperate. "You, this, George, Regina..." _

"_You don't need to fear Regina any longer," Leopold said, his arm waving above the water, and he was commanding it somehow, controlling it, and from the depths arose a shadow of the Evil Queen. She appeared to be younger, softer than Abigail had ever known her to be in any of her court appearances; her eyes alight with love and laughter as she walked with a man Abigail had never seen before. _

"_You see?" Leopold asked, softly. "We fixed it, my perfect child, fixed everything. She is with Daniel. All is as it should have always been. Regina is happy and has no more hatred in her heart. And your mother and I are here, will always be here. We'll be at your wedding, just as we always hoped. We're so proud of you, little one, and so pleased with the man you have chosen to be your..." _

"_This isn't possible," Snow cried out, eyes wild, darting between her parents and the remnants of the shadow, disappearing back into the depths of the lake. _

"_This is magic, Snow," the red-haired woman corrected, her voice lyrical, haunting, as she walked towards her daughter, her husband following behind her. "And magic can do anything," she murmured, as she reached out to bring her child into the embrace she'd longed for for many years. _

_Snow began leaning into the embrace, getting as close to her parents as possible, before she looked into her mother's eyes and sobbed. _

"_Magic can't do this." _

_And Abigail didn't have time to scream, before Snow had pulled a knife from somewhere and shoved it deep into the heart of her mother, and the figures of Snow White's parents disappeared into nothingness. _

_Abigail was crying, yelling nonsensically, and Snow was screaming at her to move, finally dragging her by the arm, out of the waters, out of the lake, and still she kept running, pulling Abigail stumbling in her wake, until they were past the tribute to the guardian of the lake, and Snow finally let her go. Abigail fell to the ground in a heap, while Snow leaned back against a tree, grasping desperately for something to hold onto, something solid, something anchoring her to the earth, to this life, to something she could believe in until she could get her bearings back. _

_Finally, after a few minutes of silence only interrupted by Abigail's dry heaving and Snow's gasping for breath and occasional sobs, the two women both regained some semblance of control, and began walking away, back towards Snow and James' castle. By the time they turned to look at each other, Snow's expression was one of violent rage. _

"_What in the name of the Gods were you thinking?" Snow snarled. _

"_I, I, I thought the lake was safe now. I needed its waters to bring my father back to me, to restore the relationship we'd lost, to fix things, like it fixed Frederick, and... I don't understand what happened there, the Siren was dead, James killed it!" Abigail cried. _

"_And you thought that waters that powerful, that enchanted would just leave themselves unprotected, free for the taking?" _

"_I didn't..." _

"_Sirens are born of the waters they inhabit, Abigail! Lake Nostos is pure, dangerous, deadly magic, the kind that was never going to leave itself unprotected. Killing one siren doesn't make a lake like that suitable for afternoon swims, it just gives you time to escape before another can rise from its depths! James killed *one* guardian, he didn't suck the magic out of the damn lake! We're lucky we made it out alive." _

"_I didn't... Snow, I didn't know it worked like that." _

"_No you didn't know how the lake worked, and you clearly didn't pay attention when James and I were discussing the Siren either. I _told_ you that the guardian of Lake Nostos is imbued with the power to take the form of what its foe wants most. Your father magically shows up in its waters, and you just cheerfully go right to it!" _

"_So did you!" Abigail yelled, fury rising in response to Snow's. _

"_To kill the damn thing, Abigail! Because *I* knew what I was dealing with. You did not. You were too naive to understand the danger you were putting yourself in. You never should have come here, and you are damn lucky that I noticed something was off with you this morning and tracked you here, because otherwise you'd be dead at the bottom of that godforsaken lake right now!" _

"_Yes, hurrah for my savior, the brave, the perfect, the fearless Snow White," Abigail snapped. _

"_Brave? Perfect? Fearless? Don't be ridiculous. I had to follow you to the scene of some of my worse nightmares, the place where I almost lost James, the place where he almost _died_, murdered by a figure with my face. Then to get you out, I get to deal with watching a Siren split and transform into my dead parents. Oh yeah, I was perfect and fearless in those moments alright!" _

_Abigail stopped in her tracks, turned to stare at Snow. "How... how did you keep from falling for the illusion? It's not like the Sirens of Lake Nostos are not convincing. It fooled me, it convinced James for long enough to nearly kill him... but you were able to keep your mind clear enough to kill one." _

_Snow looked away, deep into the forest. "The Siren could take the shape of what I most desired all it wanted," she muttered, "It still couldn't change the facts, and my knowledge of them. No magic can bring back the dead." _

"_That you know of," came a voice from the shadows. The following jarring little giggle, sounding from out of no where sent Abigail - still on edge - cowering behind Snow, while her friend took on an immediately protective stance, not at all unlike the one she had taken in the lake. _

_Rumplestilskin was suddenly standing before them. _

* * *

><p><em>While Abigail recoiled further at the sight of the imp, Snow relaxed her protective stance, though continued to watch Rumplestilskin shrewdly. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her irritated tone making it perfectly clear that she wasn't in the mood for joking around. <em>

"_Oh just what I said, dearie. You said no magic can bring back the dead and I said... oh, well, that you're wrong." _

_Snow walked towards Rumplestilskin, away from Abigail, who tensed noticeably. "Snow..." she whispered . _

"_It's alright Abigail," Snow said, not so much as glancing back at her as she continued to not take her eyes off of the imp for a second. "Rumplestilskin's not going to hurt us. That's not his game, is it?" _

_Rumplestilskin's eyes, as much as they were capable of, lit with amusement. "Always a clever princess. No, I'm not going to hurt you, dearies. Where would the fun be in that?" _

_Snow smirked, amusement mixing with concern. She didn't fear Rumplestilskin - was perhaps one of the few who didn't, and thankfully that had always seemed to entertain him somehow, rather than anger him. His words, on the other hand, she knew could be terribly dangerous. _

"_No fun at all, one would think. So tell me then, Rumplestilskin. What game are we playing today?" _

"_Why must it always be a game?" Rumplestilskin asked, arms spread wide, playing at innocence. "Perhaps I just wanted to stop for a lovely chat with dear friends." _

_Snow smiled, but Abigail could see the dangerous edge to it. "It's never that simple with you. And I'm tired, and want to get home. So let's cut to the chase, 'dearie'. How can any magic bring someone back from the dead? It's always been believed to be impossible." _

"_Ah, and so it always has been. Until now, you see. Because no one before had ever been able to bottle the most powerful magic of all." _

"_And what magic would that be?" _

"_Why, true love, of course!" Rumplestilskin exclaimed, hands clasped together, eyes blinking rapidly, in a grotesque, facetious impersonation of one in love. "With true love, dearie, one can do anything." _

_Snow rolled her eyes, not in the mood, and fully prepared to walk away from this conversation, once she'd asked one last question, for curiosity's sake. "And how did you manage this great accomplishment?" _

_Rumplestilskin grinned, evilly, and Abigail could not for the life of her understand how Snow could be so unafraid of him. _

"_By combining the hairs of the only two people I've ever seen who had it." _

_Snow froze in place, and Abigail shuddered, horrified. The look on Snow's face... _

_The bravest woman she'd ever known was finally frightened. _

* * *

><p>"<em>That's what you wanted my hair for," Snow stated, her voice intentionally devoid of emotion. "You thought you could use it for this?" <em>

"_Oh, not thought, dearie. _Knew_." _

"_How did you get one of James' hairs?" _

"_I plucked it off his cloak, which I gained from him in another bargain. He gave it up rather easily, was so desperate to get to you, when you went off on your murderous quest against the Queen. It was very... shall I say... _charming_?" _

_Unthinking, Snow lunged at the imp, which he deftly, easily avoided. With another giggle, he appeared again behind her, closer to Abigail, who dove away, back with Snow between her and Rumplestilskin. _

"_Let's not get a temper!" Rumplestilskin chided, "We're all still friends here!" _

"_Why me? Why James? You could have used anyone..." _

"_Well... No I couldn't! You forget what I said! You and your prince 'Charming' were the only people I've ever seen who had true love, and when I saw it... well, you know me, dearie. I had to possess it." _

"_Don't be ridiculous," Snow snapped, "True love is everywhere. You just used James and I for your own entertainment." _

"_Ah, ah. ah," the imp replied, "Simple love... or lust, or affection, or something that feels like is everywhere. True love is not. And you once said so yourself! To your own love, ironically enough! 'True love... it doesn't exist'" _

_Snow's eyes widened. "How can you know that?" _

"_Oh, there is very little I don't know, dearie. Let's not trouble ourselves with the mechanics of how. But you're a bright girl, and what you said was true... almost. But do not fret the mistake, for at the time, I would have agreed with you! But something about the two of you together, we'll say captured my imagination. And triumph for it! For true love blossomed, the first time I had ever seen it, and the two of you, so affected, so blinded by it... well, you both just handed what I needed to bottle it right to me!" _

_Snow seemed speechless, and with her sudden inability to speak, Abigail just barely gained back her own voice, as she stared at the imp. "I don't understand," she whispered, "How can true love be so rare? So many of us have it. _I_ have it." _

"_Oh, no you don't, dearie," Rumplestilskin responded, dismissively. _

"_Excuse me?" Abigail snapped, fury making her voice stronger. _

"_You may have love, I'll give you that. But it's not true love. True love is love in its purest form, it is magic. There is no flaw to it, nothing can interfere, nothing stands in its way. True love connects two people unconditionally, forever, and it is a bond, a link, that nothing, not distance, not time, not other feelings can break." _

"_And I have that!" _

"_Really? Nothing standing in your love's way? Daddy issues, perhaps?" _

_Abigail stared at him mutely. _

"_You may love your Frederick, young Abigail, but it is not true love, not when your confusion about how his unfortunate little accident has changed your relationship with your father is standing in the way. Did you not wonder why 'true love's kiss' never worked? It's supposed to be able to break any curse, but it failed you, over and over again, did it not? It's because it's not _true_ love between you. Simple love, perhaps. Innocent, and sweet. But not true, dearie. Never true. Yours is a love that can be broken, that could end. Yours is mere emotion, not magic. But our lovely princess over here," he beamed, pointing out Snow, "Oh, she has the magic. And now so do I! Ahahahaha!" _

"_And this magic," Snow sighed, "It can bring back the dead?" _

"_This magic," Rumplestilskin grinned, "It could do anything." _

"_Then what do you intend to do with it?" _

"_Oh, I don't know yet, dearie. I'm sure I'll come up with something fun. But fear not! As powerful as the magic is for me... it is, sadly for me, even more powerful in its natural body, between you and your prince. You've seen its effects already! True love can break any curse, and it's because of that, that you still stand here before me today. But it can do more... so much more. Remember what I said, dearie. True love cannot be broken, not by distance, time, nor death... or lives. You will always, no matter what, have that love with you." Rumplestilskin stared intensely at Snow, his voice almost hypnotic. "Remember. True love carries, it crosses all. Regardless of what life you may find yourself in. You and your love will be forever. Remember." _

_And with that one last, cryptic comment, the imp vanished into thin air. _

* * *

><p><em>Snow was staring blankly at the space which Rumplestilskin had disappeared from, emotionally shaken. Abigail was faring little better, as she tried to get herself stable on her feet, unable to keep from shivering. "Snow," she whispered. <em>

_It was enough to bring the raven-haired princess back to attention. "We have to get back," she snapped, volatile. "We have to get back right now." _

_For once, Abigail proceeded without arguing, jogging away alongside her. She found herself with the odd thought that today was the first day she had engaged in any such kind of exercise. Running, she'd always figured, was not at all ladylike. _

_She'd been frightened enough by the day's events that running now seemed perfectly acceptable. Escaping, more like. She wanted to get as far away from the lake and the woods that housed it as quickly as possible. _

_She still had questions, however, and was determined to gain some answers during the voyage back to Snow's home. "I don't understand what happened here today," she started. _

"_Join the club," Snow snapped, "We've got rapidly increasing membership for it." _

"_Snow," Abigail reasoned, "You must know that he had to have been lying to us. None of what he said is possible." _

"_You don't know the imp, Abigail! You think he made that all up for the fun of it? Rumplestilskin does nothing, says nothing without a reason for it! Every word he says is imbued with meaning, and Gods, he does not lie. Tricks and manipulates, but does not lie. You have no idea the kind of danger we must now be in." _

"_So explain it to me!" _

"_I need James," Snow gasped. _

"_I'm the one who was with you for all of..." _

"_I need James!" Snow snarled. "You cannot understand any of this. I barely do, and I am in it! There are things between James and I, things you do not know, things you will never know. He and I are bound so deep you cannot comprehend it, and now Rumplestilskin has abused that to form what sounds like the most powerful potion in the realm, and my fiance has no idea! So, no. No, Abigail, you do not get to be the one I talk to about this!" _

_Abigail's retort got caught in her throat as she caught a glimpse of Snow's stricken face. This was not, she realized, the time to push her friend, for this is the first time she has ever seen her truly disturbed. She reached out a hand, intending to comfort her, when both women were distracted. _

"_Snow!" _

_Snow spun around immediately at the call, recognizing James' voice in a second, and without hesitation, she ran to him, leaping into his embrace as he reached out and caught her. "Charming," she sobbed, and both Abigail and James were alarmed to see that she was crying. _

"_My darling," James murmured, "What on earth happened? I was so worried..." James looked over to eye Abigail suspiciously, just as Frederick walked over to join her. _

"_We were both frightened, Abby," Frederick commented, taking Abigail's hands in his own. "When we received the messenger Snow had sent, letting us know that you had left without telling anyone, without a guard or assistance, and that she was concerned and would be setting out immediately to track you... Abby, what were you thinking? Where did you go?" _

_Abigail swallowed. "I ventured to Lake Nostos." She winced at James' pained groan, realizing that he, like Snow, immediately understood the danger of that decision, where she naively had not. "I thought that the waters would be safe now, after James had killed the Siren, and that I could take some to fix things with Daddy. I didn't realize... I didn't know that another Siren would have risen... Snow saved my life." _

_James stroked a curl of Snow's hair, trying to keep his own horror off his face in favour of keeping calm for Snow. "How could you go there without telling me, Snow?" _

"_There wasn't time," she cried, "I didn't know where Abigail had gone, just that she didn't seem herself and I worried for her, which is why I sent the messenger behind to let you know. By the time I realized where her tracks lead, there was no way I could do anything but go in after her. I feared I'd be too late... I nearly was. The Siren had taken the shape of her father, and had lured her in enough that it had been able to attack. The only reason it stopped was it got distracted by me when I threw myself in front of her, and I..." _

_James closed his eyes in realization. "You had more appeal to it." _

_Abigail stuttered, "How so?" _

"_Sirens are seduced by the triumph of the kill," James replied, "And so they respond most to the strong and the brave, when there's an option as to which would be the greatest kill. The courage Snow would have shown the Siren, to throw herself between you and it... that would have been very, very appealing to the Siren." He turned back to his fiancee. "What happened when turned its attack to you?" _

"_It turned to my parents." _

_James groaned, then returned a question Snow had asked him, many nights ago. "How ever did you escape?" _

"_I knew all along it wasn't real. It could never have fooled me, but it gave me the advantage when it split and transformed from Midas to my parents before me, when I was expecting it. You were caught off guard, when the Siren you faced transformed to me. I wasn't. I knew exactly what was going to happen, and so I was able to lure it close enough to kill it." _

"_My darling... even though you knew it wasn't real, to have killed something with your parents' faces, it must have been torture." _

"_It was hard," Snow agreed, "But not impossible, just as it wasn't when you were able to kill the Siren that had impersonated me. Once you've accepted that it's not real, you can do it." _

_Frederick spoke up for the first time since Abigail had revealed what happened. "But I do not understand, James. When you told us of your encounter with the Siren, it had another form first, of another woman. How was it that Abby and Snow did not see something similar?" _

"_Sirens learn from their predecessors' mistakes," Snow jumped in to reply, "They are born of the enchanted waters they inhabit, and the water bears the memory of those come and lost before, so that the newborn may learn from it, and adapt. A Siren's true form is mere shadow and vapor, but as it can take the form of its foes greatest desire, so too it can create its own form. The one James faced would have been weaker, would have had to reveal itself in a form it considered generally seductive first, to give it time to greater understand its enemy, and take on the shape of his or her desire. This one would have adapted, so that it never shows that other form, rather can appear as what is desired from the moment it senses its enemy." _

_Abigail stared. "How can you possibly know so much about the creatures?" _

_Snow glared back. "The man I love was nearly killed by one. I had to know, to understand them. Unlike you, I have never had intention of throwing myself in harm's way unknowingly." _

"_What happened after that, my darling?" James asked, intentionally distracting his beloved from Abigail's glowering, "The Siren doesn't seem to have shaken you so... something else must have happened once you escaped?" _

_Snow returned James' stare, intently watching him, trying to communicate wordlessly, keep him calm as she murmured, "Rumplestilskin." _

_James' ice blue eyes darkened enough that Abigail, for the first time since she had known him, actually felt frightened of him. _

"_What. Happened?" he asked, voice only barely held in check, his tension obvious for all to see. _

"_We need to talk," Snow murmured in reply. "Alone." _

_James nodded, and without further word to Abigail or Frederick, wrapped an arm around Snow, guiding her away from them into the castle. Abigail watched them walking away, noting their stance - the way he was wrapping himself around her, as if to protect her with his body from any harm that may come to them - and felt pricks at the back of her eyes with the desire to weep. Suddenly, for the first time, she believed what Rumplestilskin had said. What she was seeing with them now was different from anything she'd ever known before. It was magic. _

_She turned back to Frederick then, who was still watching her. "How could you do it?" he asked, pained. _

"_I needed to fix things with my father. I didn't know of the danger." _

"_How could you not? How could you be so naive? How could you have put yourself in such a deadly situation... and force one of our dear friends into having to risk herself to save you?" _

"_I do not know," Abigail replied, quiet with hurt. "But thank the Gods our great and noble heroine Snow White was there to save me, yes?" Her voice had risen with sarcasm. _

_Frederick stared at her, then shook his head. "Yes," he muttered. "Thank the Gods for Snow." _

_And then, to Abigail's despair, Frederick turned and walked away from her. _

* * *

><p>With tears streaming down her face, Abigail stared down into the well. She hated the thing. Regina would have put it there for her own amusement, she figured. An access to, a reminder of the land, the life that no one remembered. The waters of Lake Nostos flowed to that well, and she shuddered and sobbed at her memories of a foolish girl who'd thought that a cup of water could fix anything. Even now, with that girl buried deep inside her long ago, she was tempted to reach in for a cup.<p>

It was pointless.

There was no magic here.

She walked the long way to the home that 'Kathryn' and 'David' shared, filled with regrets, consumed with memories of another time. She missed her friends, missed _Frederick _so - Frederick's innate goodness, Snow's courage, and James' bravery; the way that all three of them always seemed to know the right thing to do. She longed for them now.

But, she thought, as she remembered how Snow had appeared momentarily in Mary Margaret's classroom, she feared them even more. They couldn't come back. They'd be in more danger than they could possibly know.

Snow and James had saved her so many times.

She needed to return the favour.

She needed to be Kathryn.

When she walked in the front door of their house, Kathryn froze in place. David's luggage was piled by the door, and its owner was sitting on their aged couch, staring at her. There was no warmth in his still so piercing blue eyes.

Only cold disdain.

He stood up then, and walked towards her, looked her dead in the eye.

"Just tell me one thing, Kathryn. How could you do it?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_

_**The plot of this chapter basically appeared in my head one day a couple of months ago, just about fully formed. On the commute to work, too, when I had absolutely no time to write - convenient, no? In fact, I was still in the process of writing the few preceding chapters, so even with the kind of instant inspiration for this chapter, I wasn't writing it yet. And even once I started writing it... I had the chapter so perfectly imagined in my head, that it took me quite some time to write it, to get it right. Please let me know what you think!**_

_**As another bribe for your patience, I went and finally found Amy! You can find a picture of the dog that I've imagined in my head at my tumblr, http:/destinypanics[dot]tumblr[dot]com/post/21409504918#notes **_

_**As well, for those of you who have any interest, my twitter account is destiny_panics. You'll have to put up with my obsessive tweets about sports, should you want to follow me, but I do also tweet updates as to where I am in writing Freedom Love... and more importantly, I always tweet when I've updated. **_

_**Finally, thanks, as always, for reading. **_


	11. Voices in Her Head

**_Author's Note: It's been awhile, but I'm back with more Freedom Love. I want to thank all of you who encouraged me to keep going with this story, and for helping me to get this chapter written. It means more to me than I can say that there's people who actually are enjoying reading something I'm writing. _  
><strong>

**_This chapter is a bit different. And by a bit, I should probably say very. I'll explain more at the end, because it's been made clear to me that where this story has gone the last few chapters has been a bit confusing. But there's a point to all of this. Promise. _**

**_Enjoy. _**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten: Voices in Her Head<strong>

She ran.

It was instinct, pure and simple. She hadn't stopped to think about it. She'd needed to get the hell out, out of her classroom, out of the situation.

She'd cut through the forest, rather than the town. That had been the intent, though not consciously. She hadn't been able to deal with the thought of other people, of someone, anyone seeing her like this, seeing her when she was so obviously unhinged. Being alone - with the cheerful possibility of a wolf making its way by to just come and eat her and put her out of her misery - was exactly what she needed.

Having made her way down to a fallen tree, its trunk large enough to easily serve as makeshift bench and bear her weight, Mary sat down, physically and emotionally drained, and buried her head in her hands.

The voice - the goddamn voice - in the back of her head was unimpressed, though subdued, quieter than it had been during the most recent times it had revealed itself. Still, _Coward_, it whispered, half a sigh, as though the explosion of earlier had taken too much out of it. _You're acting a coward, and you're so much better than that. _We_ are so much better than that. _

"Go away then," Mary whispered. "If you're so much better than this, then do us both a favour and GO AWAY!" she exploded, fury welling up enough to escape control once more, and then dissipating as quickly as it came, replaced by a creeping dread.

She was losing it. It was one - really unfortunate - thing to have voices in her head. It was quite another to actually be responding to them, talking to them out loud. Or talking to _it_, she supposed. No sense making things out to be worse than they are. It's just the one voice, she told herself, frightened anyway that this should qualify as reassurance.

It was with this pained thought, that she wanted to burst into tears, but couldn't quite seem to manage it. Her whole body shook with aching sobs, but the tears, which she so needed, would not seem to come, no matter how she willed them.

Giving up, she raised her head and glared at her surroundings.

She'd always loved the forest. Felt at home out there, at times more so than in her own apartment, which never failed to bewilder her. The lush greenness of the woods, so unfailingly, naturally beautiful were comforting, certainly, but home? That just didn't make any sense at all. She'd barely last a day out here on her own, surely.

But for a few hours, it was a decent enough escape from real life, as those things go. Calming, she thought, as she settled down enough to notice the things she loved most about the woods; the gentle breeze, and the birds chirping. Things never did seem quite as bad out here. No wonder she felt so drawn to it.

_So_, the voice in her head drawled sardonically. _Are you about done? _

Mary grabbed the nearest rock and pitched it into the trees, just for the sake of having something to throw.

_My, my. There's some spunk in you. Perhaps there's hope for you yet. _

Calmer for having been able to expel some of her negative energy, rather than reacting too badly to this additional commentary, Mary found simply herself rolling her eyes, annoyed, before freezing, realizing that the 'person' she was rolling her eyes at would not be able to see it.

_Felt it though, darlin'. As I said, spunk. I like it. _

Sighing, Mary began kicking at the patch of loose dirt around her feet. There was nothing the activity could be called other than a distraction, for she had always been one for fiddling around, especially when she was nervous, or trying to delay, save face, or give herself a moment. She'd tended that way ever since she could remember, usually by playing with her ring, but something - and she wasn't at all sure what - was preventing her from doing so at this time. It just didn't feel right to play with her ring as she always did. It seemed old habits really did die hard though, and the lack of the ability to stay still remained an ever present part of her, even without involving the ring.

The sudden spraying of dirt seemed to have frightened off the birds and any other animals that had been nearby, for the noise of the creatures abruptly vanished, and she found herself surprisingly appreciating it. She found herself settling back down after a few minutes, her kicks slowing to a stop as she basked in the sudden silence of both the forest and her own head, but knowing that she could no longer expect such pleasantries to last, broke the quiet herself.

"What exactly do you want from me?"

The silence stretched for a moment or two, long enough that Mary found herself questioning her sanity even more. Was she imagining this, all of it? Talking, responding to a voice that wasn't even there, a voice of her own invention?

The delayed response though, once it finally came, sent her reeling.

_I want you to let me out. _

* * *

><p>The quiet, pained reply stunned Mary, for the loneliness and lack of hope in it sounded so much like she had for so many years.<p>

"I don't understand. Let you out? That doesn't make any sense. Aren't you just... a figment of my own imagination? Some psychosis of my own invention?"

It was strange, to hear a snort within her own head, but that was exactly what happened, as the voice responded wryly to Mary's questioning. _Wouldn't that be nice. It'd be so much easier for both of us. A mere psychosis or helpful mental breakdown, that you could do something about. You could treat it. Make me go away. And I... well, I guess I wouldn't be real, would I? I'd just be a part of you, a part that could be fixed away with no sense of loss. I wouldn't be real to feel it. Yeah, it would be really lovely if it were just that simple. _

It took Mary a second to grasp the length of the response, surprised by how verbose the voice in her head suddenly was. The possibility of having a full out conversation with the voice in her head? Completely terrifying. And absolutely necessary.

"It's not though," Mary stated, the question of it blatantly rhetorical. She'd known all along that whatever was happening to her, it wasn't simple. "What is it then?"

The voice, whatever it was, was exceedingly, unusually gentle as after a few moments it replied, _I don't know. _

Mary swallowed. "What do you mean when you say to let you out?"

_I can't tell you. I'm sorry. I am tied up, buried so deep, there's forces controlling me that you cannot possibly understand... I'm lucky I was able to say even that, lucky to be able to communicate with you at all right now. I so wish I could tell you more, but I can't. You have to figure out the rest. _

"Okay," Mary muttered, more to herself than anything else. "Okay." She was frustrated, beyond words, but she accepted that the voice in her head was telling her the truth. What reason was there to lie? If Mary understood more, she could do more, and she had a feeling that they - if she was to accept that she and the voice were indeed separate entities, they would be the apt word - both knew it.

_What are you thinking? _

Mary froze, confused. "Can't you tell?"

_No. I'm not you, Mary. I'm a presence within you, perhaps that makes me part of you, which allows me to be heard by you... but no, I don't share your head, your thoughts; I just take up space within them. I can only sense what's going on outside of your head, which... well, I really appreciate you talking to me. I know that it frightens you, but it's the only way I can get an idea of what you are feeling or thinking. _

"I must be crazy for it."

_You're not crazy. I cannot give you much, but I can give you that. _

Mary laughed, once. "The voices in my head telling me I'm not crazy. That's helpful."

_Just the one voice. _The voice became teasing somehow then, and Mary could almost hear the smile in it. _Don't make me jealous. I'm very territorial over my little corner of your head. Now tell me. What are you thinking? _

Mary bit her bottom lip, considering. "I'm wondering why I'm hearing you so much more now than I ever used to."

The silence Mary heard in response was disarming, considering how quick the voice had been to respond to her for the last little while. She gave it a few minutes before giving up and switching to another, equally as pressing question. "And what is it about David with you? Your reaction when it comes to him has been explosive. Does he... mean something to you?" She swallowed then, pained. "I mean, separately from what he means to me? If there's anything I do know anymore... It's that I love him. I love him with everything I've got. But... God, by law, he is Kathryn's, and she had every right..."

_He's not Kathryn's. David Nolan is very much yours, Mary. _

"They're married..."

_I question that, actually, but that's something you're going to have to figure out on your own. At any rate, there's much, much more to belonging to another than a marriage license, Mary. She's never understood that. I'm not sure that you really do either, but you feel it. It's there, in you, in the way that you love him... and in the way that he loves you. He's yours, do not doubt that. _

"You're so quick to say he's mine... but I don't understand, why are you so possessive of him? Is it for me, or what? But that can't be it... you've never called him mine when you've made yourself vocal before, you've called him ours. What is it that makes him yours?"

_David Nolan is yours. _

"But?"

_That part of you that was drawn to him before you ever knew him, before you'd met him, come to care for him... before you'd even spoken to him, back when he was still just one of many patients in the long-term care unit that you delivered flowers to? The part of you that wanted so desperately, so suddenly, it didn't make any sense? That would have been me. _

Mary bristled, offended. "You're not saying that you're the reason I feel for him the way that I do, because that is a load of..."

_No. I think you've fallen for him now that you know him, all on your own. I'm removed from that, or as removed as I can be. But I'm the reason you were drawn to him before you understood why you would or should be. _

"Then you do think of him as yours."

_No, Mary. On the whole, David is yours. Part of him, a very deep and buried part, is mine. It's like... you and I are, well, I'd say two sides of the same coin, but that'd be stating us as equals in the now, which obviously isn't accurate. I'm a mere shadow within you, getting stronger perhaps, but there's no denying that right now you are the whole, and I am a part, buried deep beneath the surface. For the time being, David is the whole too... and the two of you belong to each other entirely in that sense. But there's a part of David - as I am part of you - that will always belong to me. That's what I mean when I call him ours. _

"You realize that none of that makes any sense?"

_I do. And I realize that it must feel incredibly frustrating and unfair. You've got a voice in your head that will only speak in riddles and half-truths, no actual information given. I'd imagine you'd be throwing things at me if that were an option. But please, please believe that this is real, and that you can figure it out. _

"Then David... you're saying David might be dealing with something like you?"

The voice seemed oddly choked up when it responded. _I hope so. I know that's unfair. But I have to believe that my part of him is still in there somewhere. Possibly a lot more buried than even I was originally in you. But I _have_ to believe it's there. _

Mary found herself sitting quietly for some time, pondering what she had been told. It was hopelessly illogical, all of it, and the smart thing to do would probably be to go right back to town and march into Dr. Hopper's office... but that was the last thing she wanted to do, and probably for good reason. Oddly enough, it seemed as though getting professional help for her particular problem would be the most dangerous thing for her - and for the voice in her head, who annoyingly enough, she couldn't bring herself to hate now that she'd actually been able to, well, talk to it.

There were still questions she needed answers - vague or otherwise - to though.

"What happened in my classroom, with Kathryn? I know you said maybe you're getting stronger, but that was... you took over completely. And that, that can't keep happening. I have to have control, otherwise we're going to get ourselves in trouble."

_I don't really understand what happened either. My best guess is that we both lost control. We were both so angry... Your gut reaction when your emotions are extreme seems to be to shut down, to retreat within yourself until you've got control back, whereas mine is to explode. Those two irrepressible instincts colliding must have allowed me to grab control for a moment. Really, though, I'd had no idea I would be able to do that. When I exploded I would have thought you'd just hear me yell within your own head, they way it would have been for you the other times you have heard me, but Gods - it wasn't you I was angry at, it was her, and the way I needed to stake my - our - claim would have overpowered your instinct to stay quiet, to let her talk to you like that, to cower - we're going to have to work on that by the way. You've got some of me in you. I don't bow to anyone. I don't want you to either. _

"You're no one's coward. It bothers you so much to see me act as one... you're that feeling I've had, my entire life, that self-hatred when I was at my most weak!

_Yes. _

Mary bit back a curse. "So I've felt you my entire life. A presence, a feeling, a sense in the back of my mind that nothing was as it should be; whatever. But that was it. How the hell did you go from some repressed instinct, to a voice in my head that has full conversations with me, and is capable of taking over my body completely when I lose my cool?"

_You already know this. _

Her eyes closed in pained realization. "David. I've increasingly felt you, as I've gotten to know and fall for him. You were always part of me, barely. I could occasionally feel you, your disapproval, your frustration, whatever, but I couldn't hear you. You didn't have a voice like this. All you were was a 'feeling', and that was easy enough to ignore for most of my life. Until him."

_The more time you spend with him, the more I can feel of myself... and the more real I become to you. _

"And the fact that I can suddenly sit and have a full out conversation with you, and have you respond, with length and appropriate ambivalence?"

_You've admitted to yourself that you're in love with him. It made me far stronger, far more present, far faster than anything that has ever happened with me. You could gain a sense of my thoughts, some of my memories, even my feelings, occasionally, though increasingly, the more time you spent with him - but it wasn't until you admitted you were in love with him that I could talk to you like this. _

"So you're going to keep getting stronger?"

_I don't know. This is all new to me too. Possibly. Probably. You feel me the most when you're emotions are heightened around him... which is basically all the time you're around him. I imagine that will continue to make me stronger, yes. _

"Guess I'd better get used to you."

_Might not be a bad idea. _

"Are you... now that this change has happened, will I always be able to talk to you like this if I need to, or will you go back to only showing up when it'll most freak out the people around me?"

The voice laughed outright then, and it felt as odd as she would have expected; a laugh entirely removed from her own echoing in her own head... the feeling was uncomfortable in a sense, but made her feel far warmer than she would have expected, as a smile came to Mary's own lips.

_I imagine I'll be around. It's taken a lot out of me, whenever I've made any kind of progress, but I haven't taken any steps backwards. I'll be in your head if you need me. Wouldn't recommend talking to me too often though, what with the freaking out the people around you factor being an obvious concern for you. _

"So I keep this new little development to myself then?"

_That's up to you. David and Emma can be trusted. Believe me when I say that I have no reason to fear them. They mean everything to both of us, as you do to them. _

"What do I do next?"

_About me, I don't know. But if you can, forget about me for awhile. Easier said than done, I know, but there's someone way more important than me right now. _

"David. It's always going to be David. What about him?"

_I know I'm at the forefront in _your _mind right now, but remember how all of this with me came about? _

"Kathryn."

_What she is doing to him is wrong. Cruel. And you cannot keep this from him. You have to tell him, Mary. _

"I know."

* * *

><p>Mary Margaret had never been amused by people who walked slowly. Sure, she always figured, the person taking a leisurely stroll may not be in any rush to get anywhere, but the people stuck treading space behind them certainly do. She was one of the town's school teachers, a hospital volunteer; responsible and highly respectable. She did not do anything without purpose, and certainly, when she needed to get somewhere, she got there promptly.<p>

She had never made a walk in her life as slowly as she made this one.

She had texted David before she left her little spot deep in the woods, asking if he could meet her at Granny's diner. She'd considered asking him to meet her at the Toll Bridge, desiring more privacy than the diner would provide; but decided against this upon the realization that this was going to be a very difficult conversation to have - and she didn't want to have it at their little spot. Didn't want crap memories of Kathryn, and one of the cruelest things she'd ever heard of anyone being capable of, to contaminate what the Bridge meant to them.

David had responded quickly, quicker than she would have expected, given his focus on Kathryn's apparent breakdown. Mary had always preferred not to read emotion out of texts - it always was difficult to get the sense of where someone's head was at when she couldn't actually see or hear them - but he seemed eager, happy to come meet her.

She wondered if she should feel guilt at how this still thrilled her.

They agreed to meet at their booth in a half hour, which was more than enough time for Mary to make her way from where she was in the woods. She'd given herself a couple of minutes before setting off to gather herself, keep calm, and block out any thoughts of the voice in her head. Though there seemed to be something of an understanding between herself and the voice now, and she figured it seemed to know well enough to keep quiet during this particular meeting with David, she still worried over the possible distraction. David needed her complete focus on him.

Not that focusing entirely on him had ever been a problem for her in the past.

Once she'd finally felt as though she had complete control over her own emotions, Mary set off for the diner... slowly. She took her time over what was really not at all a long walk, trying to determine what she would say, how she could tell him. No one, she figured, should ever have to tell someone they loved news like this. Where does one even start, she wondered.

By the time she'd finally reached the diner down the main stretch in town, the half hour was nearly up, and as she glanced in the front window, she did indeed see David waiting at their usual table. He looked up at that exact moment, and as they made eye contact, the half smile she so adored immediately appeared on his face.

She never would tire of being responsible for that expression.

Walking in the door, she nodded a hello to Ruby, studiously ignoring the smirk the younger woman delivered her. The diner was, for a change, blessingly empty, with herself and David the only customers. Ruby was wiping down tables, seemingly cheerful to have a few moments to not be so entirely busy.

"What'll it be, Mary?" the waitress asked with an easy smile.

"Just a coffee," Mary responded quietly, as she moved to join David at their table.

"Colour me shocked," Ruby drawled, "And here I almost just went and made your hot chocolate without asking. Good thing I didn't. Light and sweet?"

"Yes, thank you Ruby. And on second thought, can I get a chocolate chip muffin as well?"

"Sure thing, hun. Just give me a minute."

Mary felt strangely almost shy as she sat down across from David, and she flushed as she realized how intently he was staring at her, as though he knew something was wrong. She'd never, not even for a second, felt uncomfortable in his presence in the past, but knowing what she needed to tell him had her out-of-ease.

"Hello David," she murmured.

"Mare," he responded, and the warmth in his voice and eyes comforted her more than anything else possibly could. "How are you?"

"I'm... I'm alright," she replied cautiously. "I've had a strange afternoon... thank you, Ruby," she interrupted herself mid-sentence as the waitress dropped off her order with a smile but no reply. Choosing instead to quickly leave the couple to the privacy she sensed they desired, quietly, Ruby walked off to the kitchen, sure that she could find something to do in there.

Grateful for the distraction, Mary took a sip of her coffee, and broke off a piece of her muffin to nibble at. She really, _really_ did not want to do this.

"Mary? You were saying?" he asked, and she could hear the concern in it. Looking up, she sighed internally. She so desperately wished that she'd never have to hurt him like this.

_You didn't do this to him. _The voice appeared in her head as a whisper, so quiet she'd have easily been able to miss it, if not for its occurring in her own head. She appreciated this, the understanding of the effort involved in ensuring she didn't get startled in front of David.

She could do this. Had to.

She'd be just as cruel as Kathryn if she kept something like this from him.

"David," she started, speaking gently, striving to not allow her loathing for the other woman to enter her voice. "Kathryn came to see me today."

Of all the things David had expected her to say (his fear that she couldn't handle waiting for him after all had been just about all-consuming for the last hour), that she had had a visit from his wife had not even factored in.

"What?" David half-laughed disbelievingly, without any humor whatsoever. "Why would she do that?"

"I guess I'm still not really sure. She never really did get to the point. To get me to back off you, I suppose? She knows... that there's something between us. She told me... she saw us at the Bridge yesterday morning, David.

David rubbed a hand over his face in frustration. "She saw us... that must be why..." he trailed off, horrified.

Mary could see the guilt overtaking David's handsome features, and had to assume that the voice somehow had too, as now that she was conscious of it's every move, she could just about feel it giving her a shove forward, and even without words, she knew what she had to do.

"She's not having a breakdown, David," she sighed, pained at the bewilderment that suddenly appeared on his face. "She told me as much. She didn't want to lose you, and she thought that she was, so she made a conscious decision to do the one thing she thought would allow her to hold onto you no matter what, and that was to use the fact that... well that you're a good man."

David stared at her disbelievingly. "She's not... she wouldn't do that... she's not like that, Mary."

Mary looked away then, as tears pooled in her eyes. "I know," she whispered, not daring to look up, "I thought the same thing. She's nice, she's kind, she's not capable of this kind of cruelty. But she told me herself. She knew you wouldn't leave if you thought she was in danger. So she made you think she was."

She looked up then, staring straight into David's pained, but still trusting eyes. She felt certain that he knew, that he understood, but desperately needed for him to hear it from her. "I would never lie to you David. Not about something like this, not ever. I'll always be honest with you. And as much as I hated doing it, I had to be honest with you now."

He smiled then, barely, a pale imitation of his usual warm and altogether wonderful grin; still, he reached across the table to grab one of Mary's hands. He was hurt, he was confused, and he was surely caught in a firestorm of his own disbelief, but still, he needed for her to know that her clarification was unnecessary.

"I know, Mare. I can't... I can't really believe any of this right now, but I do believe you. Of course I believe you. You're the only one I've completely trusted from the moment I woke up."

A smile spread on Mary's face, even as a tear finally fell. She felt her entire body warm when David reached across the table with his free hand to wipe the tear away.

"Don't cry, Mary. Please. Everything is going to be just fine. I'm done with Kathryn, Mary. After she's done this, after she'd stoop to... such unbearable cruelty, I'm done. I can't even attempt to be with someone who'd do something like that to me, when there's you... who would do anything for me, even when it hurts you to do it."

"I was more worried about hurting you," Mary whispered, "I'm really not a concern for me right now."

"Well you're always a concern for me," David responded, determined. "Always."

The blush that appeared on her face would never fail to make him smile.

"I'm going to go to the house. Pack up some stuff. Confront Kathryn... I don't want to speak to her, to even see her right now, but I feel like I have to, for closure. I want it ended. I want nothing keeping me from you anymore."

"I want that too," she replied, softly. "I know it's selfish, but from the moment I met you, I've wanted nothing but you."

Feather light, he kissed the hand he still held then, and when he smiled this time, it was real.

"Is there anything else going on with you?" he asked. "I know that your conversation with Kathryn must have been shocking, but you don't seem... you seem different, somehow. I don't really know how to explain it."

Mary sucked in a breath, continually amazed by how observant he was when it came to her.

"I'm... I've had a very strange day, but I'm alright."

"Mare," he said, chiding.

"I am. I've made some sort of peace with what's going on with me, and I promise, I will tell you all about it at some point, but for right now, I only want you to be worried about you. I am fine. I promise."

Eyebrows raised, he looked at her, considering, but she did have a point. He needed to concentrate on himself for a little while. There would be plenty of time for interrogating Mary later.

"Alright. I'll drop it, for now. Can I at least walk you home?"

Mary's smile lit up her whole face. "I'd like that."

* * *

><p>He'd left Mary at her apartment, having spent a perfectly pleasant walk discussing lovely things that were not his traitorous wife. He'd mentioned that it had been a couple of days since he'd seen Emma, which had prompted Mary to invite him over for dinner soon. He'd been happy to accept any invitation he could get, as he was pretty sure he'd be spending a lot of time eating take-out from the diner soon. She'd laughed at him then, suggesting that he was only using her for her ability to provide him with home-cooked meals.<p>

With a smile, he'd denied it. The possibility of her cooking was but one of many thousands of things he adored about her.

The blush that immediately appeared when he told her this stretched his smile to a grin. That blush, he announced, would have a starring role on said list.

She was so easy to be around. Made everything lighter, everything better. That she could actually take his mind off of what Kathryn had done was proof positive of this.

It amazed him that it had taken him this long to realize it. He was in love with her. In love with Mary Margaret. And he was determined not to allow anything else to wreck it.

He didn't tell her his realization, as he said good-bye to her at the doorstep of her building. It wouldn't have been fair. He was distracted, and so was she, and when he told her he loved her, he wanted it to be perfect.

He'd snuck a kiss just as he left though. Had been unable to help himself. And the surprised delight on her face as he pulled away - quietly murmuring, "I'll see you soon, Mary" as he did so - had kept him smiling the whole walk to his house; smiling even as he threw some of his things in suitcases.

By the time he'd sat down to wait for Kathryn to arrive home, his smile had vanished, intentionally. Mary deserved better than for him to be thinking of her as he ended his marriage. This needed to be about him, and him alone.

He'd felt an unfamiliar scowl settle on his face when he heard the click of the lock, and he stared as Kathryn walked into the living room, shock plain on her features.

"Just tell me one thing, Kathryn." His voice was as cold and sharp as ice even to his own ears. "How could you do it?"

* * *

><p>She'd been productive, as she arrived home. Fed the pets, set the table, mixed up some homemade macaroni - comfort food - and put it in the oven to cook for dinner. Pondered doing a load of laundry just for the sake of having something else to do, then decided against it.<p>

She lay down on the couch then, to wait for dinner to be ready, or for Emma to arrive home from work, whichever came first. She was completely alone with her own thoughts, even the animals having raced off to the other room. Realizing this, she found herself actually wishing she could call out to the voice in her head, but stopped herself, embarrassed by both the temptation, and the fact that she didn't know what to call it.

Fortunately, it did not have the same problem.

_You did good today, Mary. _

"It was the right thing, to tell him. I just wish it had been unnecessary. I don't like hurting him.

_Neither do I. But that was all _her,_ not us. _

"You really don't like her?"

_I don't know. I thought she was better than this. Way better. I never would have thought she could do something like this. _

"Do you... do you think she has a... a you?"

_I don't know what I think anymore, Mary. I would have said I hope so. But after what she's done, the idea that the part of her I know being in there and letting it happen is horrifying to me. I'd much rather hope that part of her is gone, than believe that it could have been involved in such cruelty to David. So no, I really don't know, and I don't think I want to know. _

"Okay."

Together, Mary, and the voice inside her head sat silently for a few short minutes, before Mary couldn't help herself, and asked one more question.

"Do you... is there something I can call you?"

_Frosty, _the voice responded with a snort.

"Seriously?" Mary asked, unable to keep from laughing.

_No, not serious. Sorry. This is still every bit as strange for me as it is for you. Inside jokes that you couldn't understand are going to creep into my comments sometimes - I only have my thoughts and memories, combined with your senses to draw on for what I say to you. Um. I really don't know... I guess we could just go with Mika? _

Mary raised an eyebrow, before remembering that the voice would be unable to see it. "One of the names Henry came up with for Laci?"

_Yeah. I uh, thought the name was neat. Maybe not for Laci, but I liked it anyway. And it kind of makes me feel like... I'm just a bit closer to our people. I know, that may be unfair to you, because they're really your people, but it makes me feel... _

"I'm fine with it. Mika."

_Okay. Yeah. That'll do. For now, that'll do. _

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: Of all the people I have to thank, GinnyArias belongs high on the list. Her comment was probably the most helpful response I've received to this story so far, as she brought up a number of questions that I feel may be more common than I'd realized. <strong>  
><em>

_**The first question, why it was necessary for Abigail to have her own chapter, I'm not going to *really* answer right now, because that chapter is going to be of far more importance later on in this story. It was, so to speak, to set up future storylines. I would like everyone to know that 'Abigail' was probably the most important chapter of this story so far, for what she was able to tell us about Snow, and to a lesser extent, James. Giving that chapter another read as this story continues would not be a bad idea, though I'll be sure to make it clear in the story when it gets really important. **_

_**The other comment/question, that I really wanted to respond to, was the idea that I have strayed from the beginning of this story... which was really a fantastic observation, because I have done so, but I don't think I made the reasons why for it clear. This story, as it has stood from the beginning, has been about the Mary/Snow duality, and I have meant for the chapters to reflect that duality. The first half dozen or so chapters of the story were almost all fluff - there was a calmness, an easiness to them, meant to reflect Mary's state of mind without Snow's impact. Her life was simple, she was growing to love David, and Emma and Henry, all on her own terms. But as Mary has been experiencing Snow more and more, I've been trying to reflect that through the tone of the story, as it becomes more chaotic and dramatic. Snow is, very slowly, beginning to take control within both Mary, and this story, and Snow is definitely not the calm and docile Ms Mary Margaret. We will, though, be seeing a return to some lovely fluffiness soon, because as we saw in this chapter, Mary has come to something of an acceptance of 'the voice in her head', and her emotional state, and thus the tone of the chapters will be much calmer for it... for a chapter or two anyway. **_

_**I feel bad, because I don't think I made any of this as clear as I would have liked. It's been some time since I've written fanfic after all... I'm not at all used to having actual readers for my writing! When I'm just writing for me, I obviously know what I'm thinking... but now that I'm publishing something I'm writing online, it's much more complicated. Gives me a goal for myself - keep the story flowing well, but don't make it jump around too much without an explanation. After all, poor Mary can only handle so much! **_

**_Thanks, as always, for reading. _**


	12. Wanting Burns

**Chapter Eleven: Wanting Burns**

He found that he kept waiting for remorse. For guilt, definitely, pain, perhaps. But above all else, David Nolan kept on waiting to see remorse take over his wife's classically beautiful features. He wanted for it. Wanted some evidence, some clue to hold onto, some proof that the woman he was married to wasn't as cruel as everything in him was screaming she was.

He watched Kathryn's face carefully, waiting for that sign, wanting for something, anything to reassure him. He recognized and accepted the shock that first shone plain in her eyes. Found himself then wondering at the slight flash of fear he thought he may have seen there, though it disappeared so quickly he would later feel convinced he had just imagined that particular emotion.

For those agonizing few minutes after Kathryn first walked through the entryway to their living room, staring at him, he'd analyzed her face, not wanting to miss even the most minute expression of emotion. But, he'd found himself forced to admit as he'd watched her features rearranged themselves into a calm, ice cold, and altogether expressionless mask, aside from the initial surprise, there'd been nothing there to see.

There never was. Not for him, anyway. He'd never quite been able to read her, not in the way a husband should be able to read his wife.

The way he could - and always had been able to, he realized not without a healthy sense of irony - read Mary.

Really, he wondered, what had he been doing all these months? How had he not recognized how unhealthy this sham of a marriage really was?

Bitterness added an unfamiliar strain to his voice, as David finally broke the all too uncomfortable silence. "Nothing to say? I have to say, I'm impressed. I'd figured for more of the 'everything is fine' company line."

Perhaps her face had paled a tad, but otherwise, her cool expression did not change, and it unnerved him. Always had. The ice made him uncomfortable. He'd always felt better around heat, around fire. At least then he knew when he risked being burned.

"I don't generally have anything to say when I am caught unawares of the conversation, David," Kathryn responded sharply. "What is this about? Why are your things piled by the door?"

"You cannot be serious right now..."

The blond worked her way further into the room, tossing her keys onto a side table. "Giving up, I suppose?" She picked up a pile of mail sitting on the same table, flipped through it idly, then tossed it back down as she looked back up, and drawled, "Again?"

"No, you're not going to do that, Kathryn, you are not going to put this on me," David snarled, pain and fury giving his voice more of a bite than either of them had ever heard in it before. He looked away, collected himself, then looked back at his wife, more a stranger to him than even the day she'd run into his hospital room. "I'm to blame for a lot of what has gone wrong since I woke up, but not this. You won't blame me for this, I won't accept it!"

"I still don't know what 'this' is, David!"

David laughed, humorlessly. "Forgive me, but that's a load of crap. You know exactly what this is."

"Well, just for the sake of ensuring we're all well and on the same page, how about you enlighten me anyway?"

"You're very self-assured, Kathryn. Put together, calm, functioning well. Even thriving. You're _fine_. Because you're not having a mental breakdown, are you? You faked one just so I would believe you were."

Kathryn gaped at David, pained. "So the cuts on my wrist, all for show? I'm not _alright_, David, you said so yourself, you said you would help me, how can you take that back?"

"I was willing to, going to take care of you when I believed it. And I believed it, Kathryn. That's the worst part, the very worst part of all of this, the way you so easily played me for a fool. I was so desperate to do the right thing, and you knew that, and used that, and manipulated me with it."

"This is ridiculous, I didn't do anyth-"

"I saw Mary Margaret," he whispered, the fight having gone straight out of him.

Kathryn froze, understanding finally dawning on her face, breaking through the mask of indifference.

"She told me about your visit, your confession about your little ruse. The pride you took in realizing my weakness, and using it against me. And I so, so did not want to believe it... but I know Mary, I know who she is, and I know that _she_ would never lie to me about something like this."

Kathryn nodded. "Lovely. Believing your whore over your wife."

"Excuse me?!" he snarled, fury strengthening his voice once more. "You don't get to talk about Mary like that..."

"I get to talk about the saintly Ms. Blanchard however the hell I want, David. You are my husband, and she's been moving in on you from the moment you regained consciousness, and you've just gone along and let her. I saw the two of you together, by the bridge, did she mention that little detail?"

Something dangerous flashed in David's eyes. "Yes."

Caught off guard, Kathryn lost track of what she meant to say. "She did."

"She is honest with me. Doesn't keep secrets, doesn't lie, isn't a _fake_. I wish I could say the same for you."

Kathryn swallowed, defeated, and made all the more bitter for it. "I couldn't lose you. You were slipping away, to her, and I couldn't have that. What I did... I was horrified by it, you must believe that, but it was necessary. You wouldn't leave me, not if you believed me in danger. I know who you are well enough..."

"You don't know who I am. You don't know anything about me. You wouldn't have done that to me if you did, you would have known I couldn't accept it, couldn't forgive it..."

"You weren't supposed to ever find out!"

"So going and throwing it in Mary's face was, what, just for fun? To torture her while you did me? Two for one deal?"

"I didn't think she would go running to you!"

"Of course she would tell me! She would never, ever do anything that would intentionally hurt me, she would not keep that kind of secret from me! She is not capable of the kind of cruelty you are!"

"Cruelty?!"

"Faking a mental breakdown, Kathryn? Self-harming as... as manipulation? Do you have any idea how horrible that is, how I feared for you? It's not alright that you did this, it's not alright that you made me believe that you're a danger to yourself, it's not okay that I believed I was responsible for destroying you! And all along, you were fine, all along you were just - this conniving, evil, cruel person, and I saw none of it!"

"I'm not fine, David!" Kathryn cried, paling further still as David scoffed and turned away. "You can't just leave me like this. You think someone who is alright would do something like this? Maybe I'm not so unstable as I would have had you believe, maybe I'm not having a psychological breakdown, but I'm not alright, I've become this person who I don't even recognize, and I need you to stay and help me..."

"No." David stated, and there could be no doubting the assurance that had finally entered his voice. "No, you're not going to do this to me again. You're not going to put it all on me. You're messed up, Kathryn, and I am sorry for whatever role I played in doing that to you, but I am done." He walked to the front door, picking up his two suitcases - shockingly light, given that they contained everything that mattered enough for him to bring with him, and it dawned on him how well they illustrated his sham of a marriage, how little he cared to bring out of it.

He turned back to Kathryn, forced himself not to feel guilt at the tears now falling from her eyes, the fear that now shone plainly in them. "I am done trying to play the hero for you."

He walked outside, tossed his suitcases into the back of his pickup truck, then walked around to the side, only to find Kathryn had followed him out, standing by the driver's side door, blocking his way.

"You cannot do this, David," she murmured, suddenly eerily calm. "This is not you."

"You do not know what is me. You don't know who I am. The person you knew died years ago in a car accident. I'm not him. And I am done trying to be."

And with that last, final word, David stepped around his wife, entered his truck, slipped the key from his pocket into the ignition, and drove away.

Shock at his words having frozen her from attempting any other last, desperate means of stopping him, Abigail watched her dear friend's truck reach the end of their street, and turn, out of sight, gone. Trembling, she fell to her knees right there on her Storybrooke identity's perfectly kept lawn. "What do I do?" she whispered aloud. "Oh Gods, oh Gods, what do I do now?"

* * *

><p>The door came flying open with a bang, and Mary Margaret did not even flinch. The explosiveness of her roommate's entries had long ago ceased to surprise her.<p>

"Hey, Em," she called from the kitchen, not even bothering to look up. "Dinner's just about ready, if you want to wash up first."

"Sounds good," Emma returned, just before bending over to give Amy - at the door to greet her from the moment the door opened - a decent scratch on the head. Glancing around for Laci, she smirked at the sight of the cat curled up on a blanket on the couch. "Given up on keeping the pets off the furniture already, have we?"

Mary laughed good-naturedly. "She curled up there with me when I was tal - trying to take a nap, when I got home. I couldn't bring myself to get her off, especially when it was the first she'd really initiated contact with me since we got her. She's so much more comfortable with you."

When Emma smiled, it was easy-going. "Yeah, well, Amy loves you so much more than me. Our pets pick favourites. We're just going to have to deal with it - we're only _their_ little humans, after all."

Mary glanced over at Emma, grinning even as she pulled the pan out of the oven. "Excellent point. Now, go wash your hands! Don't make me tell you again!"

The smile stayed on Mary's face even as Emma walked off to their little powder room, rolling her eyes all the way. "Yes, Mom," Emma called sarcastically.

The explosion of pain in Mary's head hurt all the more for the unexpectedness of it.

Dropping the pan onto the trivet waiting on the counter, and immediately raising her hands to her head as though she could somehow contain the pain in it, Mary cried out, quietly in attempt not to startle Emma, but loud enough that the blond came running out of the other room, hands still soaking wet. Slumped over against the kitchen cabinetry, head in her hands, the pain receded enough that Mary was able to look up into Emma's worried eyes.

"Mare?" Emma asked, and Mary hated herself for the fear and skittishness she heard in it - how could she keep doing this to Emma, so soon after Graham?

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry. _Mika cried in Mary's head, and the agony in her voice was blatant. _I'm sorry, that was my fault, I've got control back, you should be fine now, I'm sorry. I... I'm going to be quiet for a bit, leave you to your dinner, don't worry about me. I'm not going to cause any trouble again, I didn't mean to now, I just didn't expect - I'm sorry, I'm sorry. _

"I'm alright," Mary murmured, and it startled her that she didn't know who she was responding to. Focusing her attention to Emma, _making_ the response be to her, she continued. "I just got this pounding ache in my head all of the sudden, but it's gone away as quickly as it came. I'm okay, Em."

Choked up, Emma had to look away, even as she replied. "You really, really are going to have to stop doing that to me." After quickly drying her hands, she grabbed a spare pair of oven mitts, then picked up the macaroni before Mary could get a word in edgewise - still shaken as she was - and put the pan down on the table where another trivet awaited. Taking a deep breath once she got there, calming herself down, she was steady when she turned back to Mary. "Are you alright to eat?"

Mary smiled. "I am. Thank you, Emma. Let's eat... I was in the mood for some serious old fashioned comfort food tonight."

Reassured that Mary did in fact seem herself once more, Emma joined her friend in sitting down at the table, spooning out macaroni and cheese onto plates, and smothering it in ketchup as they both preferred to do.

Opting for a light tone meant to hide how afraid she'd been, Emma commented, "Can I just say how much I love that you get home before me and have a love of cooking when you get here?"

"Nice to come home to a ready prepared dinner?"

"Hell yeah!" Emma exclaimed "I can't cook worth anything myself. I spent years living off of frozen dinners and take-out. Gets old, real fast. You have no idea how nice it is to get in at the end of the day and have homemade mac and cheese."

An aching wistfulness that Mary felt quite removed from filled her then, and she knew immediately that this too was Mika's emotion she was feeling, not her own, but that Mika seemed to be keeping an iron tight grip on herself, so as to not make Mary feel anything more than a passing discomfort. She found herself feeling an unmistakable fondness for the voice in her head, and, though not knowing why Emma seemed to cause her such pain, felt the need to reassure her somehow. "Em," she sighed.

"Don't go pitying me now, Mare. I've had some lonely times, but everyone does, and I am in a really good place now. _I'm_ good."

Mary's smile lit up her whole face. "I'm glad. Now. Tell me about your day."

"Decent. Easy. Didn't see Regina, or have to arrest Leroy, OR have to deal with Mr. Gold's thinly veiled... weirdness, so I guess I'd have to say pretty damn good."

"Thinly veiled weirdness?"

"Yeah, it made sense in my head."

"Hey I'm just surprised to hear his weirdness called veiled at all," Mary grinned easily at Emma's snort. "Guy's always given me the creeps. He's always watching me, and the way he looks at me..."

"It's like he's waiting for something to happen," Emma murmured, perfectly finishing Mary's thought.

"You too?" Mary exclaimed.

"Me too."

"Well, now I don't know if I should be glad or offended that it's not just me." At Emma's wild laugh, Mary found herself giggling in reply. "What? He can't be waiting for me to do anything that interesting if he's waiting for you to do it too."

"Uh huh, good theory there. So. Enough talking about strange men staring at us, at least while I'm eating. How was your day?"

Mary winced. "Crap."

"Crap as in, day was crap, or crap as in...?"

"Crap as in, oh crap I can't believe I just prattled on about dinner and Mr. Gold without telling you about the insanity that was my day..."

"Oh now, do tell."

"It's a very long story."

"I love long stories. They're the most interesting. They usually require wine though, do you have a bottle open?" Emma asked, wandering back into the kitchen.

"By the fridge. Wine and mac and cheese, this is classy."

"Always. Talk, Mare," Emma commanded, as she proceeded to pour each of them a healthy glass.

"Well, I told you about Kathryn..."

"Having gone crazy? Yes."

"Emma!" Mary exclaimed.

"Let's be honest, Mary, political correctness is not my forte. What you call a breakdown, I call crazy. What happened?"

Mary sighed. "What you call crazy, she calls fake crazy."

Emma blinked in reply. "Yeah, I'm sorry... what?"

"She was faking it. All of it, the whole breakdown. Well, not the cuts David saw on her wrist, obviously, she did intentionally hurt herself, but for his benefit. It was all a lie, a perfectly designed one, meant to keep David from leaving her by appealing to the one thing she had working for her, his desperate desire to do right by everyone, including her."

Emma gaped. "And you know all of this - how?"

"She told me herself. Came by to visit me in my own classroom this afternoon. I still don't understand what she was trying to accomplish by it. Get me to back off? I don't know. But she told me the whole sordid story, I got so angry, and... had another one of my blackouts..."

"Mary! How could you not tell me?"

"It wasn't actually the first thing on my mind, given everything else that happened today. But it clarified things a little for me. It seems like it happens to me when my emotions are extreme, so if I can keep a better control over my own feelings, I shouldn't... go blank as much as I have been."

"Well that's something, I guess."

"It is. I promise, Emma, I'm going to get a hold of all of this."

"And David?"

"I told him. I had to, Emma. The idea of keeping something like this from him, it was repulsive... the only thing worse than having to tell him was the idea of not telling him."

Emma leaned back in her chair, stunned. "How was he?"

"Horrified. I felt awful telling him. And, God, Em, there's such a huge part of me that _hates_ her for making me part of this, making me do that to him."

"Mary, this wasn't your fault."

"I know," Mary nodded. "That's what... he told me too. I'm not responsible for what Kathryn did, I wanted nothing to do with it, but I was in it, and I just... I just had to tell him."

"So... now what?" Emma asked.

Mary shrugged, her lips twisting into a sardonic half-grin, far more pained than amused. "I've no idea, Em. What do you do after something like that?"

The doorbell rang.

Emma and Mary Margaret simultaneously looked at the door, then back at each other, a rapidly growing smirk developing on Emma's face. "You come over to Mary Margaret's place for some lovin' up to make you feel better?"

Mary's face was scarlet. Dear lord, she could even feel *Mika* laughing at her, whatever was bothering her clearing having been chased away by humour. "Shut up, Em!" she shout-whispered, as she walked over to the door.

Emma's only response was the delighted, slightly evil grin she had long ago perfected for whenever Mary and David were around. Still laughing, the utterly amused sparkle in Emma's eyes made it impossible for Mary to keep a smile from coming to her own lips even as she opened the door.

As predicted, David Nolan had been waiting on the other side, his pained, stressed expression immediately clearing to have seen the mirth on Mary's face.

"Did I miss a good joke?" David asked, peeking into the apartment to see that Emma was sitting at the dining table wearing the wicked grin he had grown all too accustomed to.

At Mary's pleading look, Emma kept her mouth shut, and downgraded the grin to a smirk - try as she might, that was the best she could do. She always had worn her amusement for all to see.

Turning back to David, all the while willing the blush she had felt burn with Emma's comment to have gone away, Mary smiled. "You missed nothing more than inane chatter between girls, David. Come on in."

At the appearance of David walking into the apartment, Amy jumped up, and over hot chocolates later, both Mary and Emma would swear to David that they'd seen the labrador _bounce_ her way over to him. The giddy young dog looked to be quite happy to keep her third owner right where he was all night, particularly once he'd fallen victim to another one of her ploys for a belly rub. Grinning at Mary and Emma's laughter, David found himself insisting that he owed her one, after all, he hadn't seen her since _yesterday_.

"Loathe though I am to break up the tender loving moment between man and dog," Mary commented with a teasing smile, "Would you like a plate of mac and cheese? It's homemade, and I seem to have vague recollections of promising you the occasional home cooked meal."

With one last pat on the head for Amy, David stood up. "I'd love some, actually. I haven't eaten anything since this morning."

Joining his friends at the table, David took the plate Mary offered him, then glanced at the half-eaten plates Mary and Emma were still working on. "Is it normal for the two of you to have what seems like more ketchup then macaroni?"

"Yes," both women responded in sync, serious-faced before smiles started sneaking their way out.

"Don't knock it until you've tried it," Mary commented lightly, "You enjoyed our version of hot chocolate after all."

"Very true. Drowning in ketchup it is."

Mary smiled fondly at David as, true to his word, he fairly well covered his helping of dinner in ketchup. The smile grew as she watched him take a bite and raise an eyebrow, an expression she knew to mean he liked it, and was surprised by it. A slight blush appeared on her cheeks again, as she had the errant thought that the way she knew him, was the way a wife would know her husband.

Changing the subject to get her mind off of that particular train of thought, she focused her attention entirely on David, rather than herself. "How are you, David?" she asked.

"Not great," David nodded. "About as well as could be expected, for someone who's just left their wife."

"You... so you did leave."

"I couldn't stay, Mary, couldn't pretend anymore. Not after everything. It was too much to bear anymore."

"So, um... I can go, give you guys some privacy." Emma announced, much to Mary and David's surprise and protest.

"No, Em, you're not even done eating yet."

"Stay with us, it's cool. Mary, I assume you filled Emma in?" David asked.

"Yes. I'm sorry, I should have waited until I made sure it was alright with you, but I've gotten so used to telling Emma everything..."

"Don't worry about it Mare," David replied, his voice so warm his sincerity could not possibly be doubted. "If you hadn't told her, I would have. The two of you are pretty much all I've got at this point."

"David..." Mary murmured, pained, while Emma looked stricken but said nothing.

"Hey it's alright," David replied with one of his easy-going smiles. "I've got you two. As long as there's that, I'll be just fine."

"You can be fine without people," Emma commented, quietly, looking down as she did so. "Or you can still function, anyway. But when you've got people... I don't know, they make everything better. You can be fine without, but you can only be good with, so I get it, David, and we'll be here." She found the bravery then to look up, only to see her friends staring at her, transfixed. "You two and Henry made everything better for me. I've never had people there for me the way I know I have people now. I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure I'm there for you in return."

Reaching out with one hand to join David's in covering Emma's, Mary Margaret lifted her other hand to rub at her head. She could feel, again, that something was wrong with Mika, but the voice in her head seemed to be keeping herself so tightly kept together that Mary couldn't ascertain what it was about, could only assume that it was about Emma once more. Feeling only a slight spasm in her head herself, she wondered at how strong Mika must be to keep feelings experienced in Mary's own head separate from her, and at the same time, worried at how she could feel something was wrong, feel the pain, even when Mika was working so hard to keep it from her. _How much you must be hurting... _Mary worried.

_I'll be alright, Mary. _

Mary froze. _Did you... hear me? _she thought.

For a moment, there was no reply, at least not one expressed, though Mary could easily feel Mika's wordless disbelief.

_Yes. _

_I thought... I thought you couldn't hear my thoughts? _

_I couldn't. This is new. _

* * *

><p>Emma and David had been engaged in quiet conversation for a few minutes before Mary's obvious distraction became too worrying to ignore any longer.<p>

"Mary?" David asked, gently.

Mary jumped, just slightly startled, then smiled. "I'm sorry, I am being a terrible host, aren't I? Just distracted. Don't worry about me, I'm alright."

"'I'm alright'," Emma snorted. "I'm about ready to get that tattooed across all of our foreheads, yours especially."

A wary, but undeniably amused smile spread across David's face, while Mary shook her head and laughed. "As ever, excellent point, Em. At least we've all got each other to be not alright with. May I suggest a walk? I'm sure we could all use the fresh air, and besides, I can't take back the w-word now, because Amy is dancing, so I'm at least going to have to go."

Looking over to where Mary had nodded, Emma and David were unable to keep from cracking up. At the word 'walk', Amy had indeed run to the door, and started jumping and running around so giddily, that one only could call the dog's movements dancing.

Soon after clearing their emptied dishes over to the counter for clean up later, the trio had made their way outside, with Amy running out in front of them. Upon David's assurances that Amy was indeed perfectly well trained enough to walk off leash, they'd decided to do so this time so that a still slightly paranoid Mary and Emma could see it for themselves. Immediately, they could see what he meant. Though Amy ran in front of them, she never let herself get too far ahead, and whenever one of them called her back, she immediately obeyed. Pleased by their own great luck to have fallen in love with the one dog in the shelter that was so well trained, they were only too happy to let the labrador have her fun, thrilling in her obvious delight with being free to run.

Calling Amy back only when crossing streets or switching directions, they led the dog toward the park that Henry loved so much, engaged in pleasant, easy - unrelated to Kathryn or blackouts or sad pasts - conversation all the while.

Arriving at the playground, their little group was all surprised, delightedly so, to look up and see a wildly waving Henry sitting on top of the playground, a soccer ball in his lap. The boy ran down, drawing calls for him to be careful from both Emma and Mary.

"Hi Emma!" the boy announced immediately after arriving a few feet away from their little group. "Hi Amy! Hi Mary and David!"

After greeting Henry, indulgent grins on all of their faces, the boy began excitedly chattering to his Mom, while David leaned down to whisper into Mary's ear, "Why do I have a feeling we just got ranked on who he's happiest to see."

"Below the dog," Mary sighed, half laughing as she whispered back. "I feel hurt."

"Well you beat me."

"Nah, he so had us tying. Same sentence. I would know, I teach him grammar. We rank together, but still below Amy."

"Well," David said, the half-smile that was only hers playing at his lips, puppy-dog eyes and all, "If it makes you feel better, if it were me, I would have said hi to you first."

Mary bit her bottom lip, trying to will the blush to stay away for once.

"How well I am coming to know you, Mary." he murmured, watching her face as best he could while still whispering into her ear. "You bite your lip when you're nervous, or when you're embarrassed and trying to keep everyone else from knowing it - trying to will that beautiful blush of yours away."

"How..." Mary started to ask, before David continued on as though she hadn't said anything.

"And," he whispered, moving closer to her still, close enough that he could smell the light scent of the perfume on her neck, "You bite your lip when you're attracted to me."

Eyes wide, Mary stared at him, realizing too late that she was still biting her bottom lip. His eyes darker than usual, a proud, slightly cocky - but still so damn charming for it - smile on his face, how could she possibly not be attracted to him in this moment? If only she were quicker witted, if only she were a more accomplished flirt.

_It's _David_, Mare. Don't worry so much about saying the right thing, when it's him, you'll say it anyway. The two of you fit, now SAY SOMETHING! _

An easy smile, confident and assured, worked its way onto Mary's face, as she looked up at David. "My poor lip," Mary purred. "If I'm biting it whenever I'm attracted to you, damn, I must never _not_ be biting it."

_Yup. That'd do it. _

Giggling at Mika, and thrilling at the surprise on David's face, the heat in his gaze, Mary turned away to walk towards Emma and Henry, feeling as though her happiness in that particular moment might very well have her floating.

"Hey, Henry," Emma said to her son, smiling at his excited play-by-play of that day's gym class, "Why don't you go tell David about the goal you scored."

"Okay!" the boy cheered, running over towards where David still stood.

Both women stood together, grinning fondly at the boy.

"If I could ask you a slight favour," Emma said, the perpetual teasing note entering her voice. "Stop eye-sexing in front of my kid, cause I really don't wanna have that conversation yet."

Feeling her face go scarlet once more, Mary sighed. "I am never going to get my face to go back completely back to its normal colour."

Emma giggled, sounding far younger and more carefree than usual for her. "Sure you will."

"Nope. I'm doomed to be forever red-faced around the three of you. You know, I never used to blush until you guys came into my life."

"Hey, don't be blaming me," Emma drawled. "That is _all_ his fault."

Watching David play with Henry, attempting to recreate the goal the boy had scored that day - David playing the hapless defender who had been unable to do anything versus Henry's triumphant offensive skill - Mary couldn't argue in the least. "Yeah," she murmured, "I guess it is."

* * *

><p>After watching David help Henry recreate his goal no less than eight times, Emma had seen no choice but to jump in once Amy started trying to play - which for the dog, essentially meant trying to steal the ball and run. Both to relieve David, to allow Mary more time with him, and to keep Amy entertained, Emma came up with an idea.<p>

"Hey kid," Emma called, "I think Amy wants to play with you. What do you say you and I go and try to find a good stick to play fetch with her."

"Can we?!" Henry asked, thrilled, the soccer ball forgotten. He grabbed Emma by the hand, pulling her towards the wooded area, and called the dog after them. "Come on, Amy! We need your help to pick a stick you'll like."

Only slightly winded, David made his way over to Mary. "I feel sorry for the kid in gym class," David quipped, to Mary's laughter.

"No, that was great. You're amazing with him. So patient. You're going to make an incredible father some day," she commented, shyly, looking up at him through her lashes.

"You think so?"

"Oh, I know so. You work with kids enough, you get to know what they need, and from that, you can easily see the people who would make good parents. And you? You would make a fantastic parent."

"If I'd make a fantastic parent," David started, "Man, Mare, you'd make an extraordinary one."

Mary's answering smile was brilliant. "Thank you for saying that."

"Oh, I don't say it lightly. I mean it. But..."

"But?"

"We're going to have to work on your sense of play," David announced.

"And what, exactly does that mean?"

"This."

Grabbing Mary, David lifted her up in the air and spun her around, her shrieking in surprise all the while.

"David! Put me down!" Mary commanded through delighted giggles.

"Oh, nope, nope, still not playful enough yet," David determined, as he proceeded to toss Mary over his shoulder and began running around.

Mary Margaret's laughter echoed in the wind.

* * *

><p>Watching from higher ground, further up the beach where she could not be seen, Abigail sighed, pained. The two of them always had fit so very well together, how in the world was she supposed to keep them apart? She'd never seen a pair so meant to be together as Snow and James were, and that clearly had not changed through magic and forgotten pasts. Rumplestilskin's words, a lifetime ago, echoed in her mind, and she wondered what she could possibly do to block a love that supposedly nothing could stop.<p>

Even now, watching them goof around... Mary had wiggled out of David's grip by the time he'd carried her down right by the water, and she was now kicking water all over him, as he chased her, trying fruitlessly to block her assaults. Both of them were laughing hysterically.

"What the hell is this?"

Abigail spun around at the cold, infuriated voice, to see Regina standing some distance behind her, darkly watching the pair below.

Sucking in a breath, Abigail took on the persona of Kathryn as quickly as possible. "What are you doing here, Regina?"

"Oh, keeping an eye on my son. I know that he sees Ms. Swan quite regularly, and much as I loathe it, I feel that keeping him from her would only lead him to resent me more, and I can't have that. So I let it happen... but I'm watching them all the while. But while I was not at all surprised to see the two of them... your husband and the schoolteacher, on the other hand..."

"Kathryn, my dear," the mayor continued, "What is going on here? Don't tell me that little shrew has gotten her hooks this deep into them."

"I'm afraid so, Regina. David has been manipulated by her oh-so-sweet character, and imagines himself falling for her." Bringing tears to her eyes, she looked over at Regina. "He left me."

"My God," Regina snarled. "I truly underestimated her. And the way she's just slithered right in... She's a snake, and I'm the only one who sees it."

"Well," Abigail replied through sniffles, forcing out a laugh she knew Regina would appreciate as fake, "I certainly see it now."

"Oh, don't you worry dear," Regina smiled coldly. "I'll make the serpent pay, I promise you that."

"No!"

Regina stared at Kathryn, bewildered. "No?"

"Regina, I appreciate having you on my side, but you have to understand... if anything happened to Mary Margaret, David would blame me. I can't have that. It's like you with Henry, don't you see? If I try to do anything - or let you do anything - to their relationship, it would only push him further away from me."

"So what do you suggest? Allowing them to flaunt their affair like this?"

"For now," Abigail sighed, "I suppose so. Allow him to be with her, if that's what he thinks he wants. He'll quickly learn otherwise." She looked at Regina then, head held high, allowing a confident smirk to settle on her face. "David is attracted to heat, to fire, to passion. Always has been..."

"Well, I'll give you that point," Regina replied, darkly, and Abigail barely refrained from shuddering at the barely subtle reference to Snow and James' passionate past.

"And the meek little schoolteacher has none of that, Regina. I do. I'll get him back. I know men, and I know my husband. He won't at all be difficult to seduce back, once he bores of the sugary sweet."

Regina's answering smile was chilling. "Very well, Kathryn. I'll leave it in your _very_ capable hands then. You let me know if you change your mind."

"I'm not planning on needing any help," Abigail laughed, lightly, "But I will let you know."

"Of course. Come now, my friend. There's no sense to watching this... distastefulness... any longer. I will give you a ride home."

"Thank you, Regina. I think I am ready to leave."

* * *

><p>"Well, as I find myself completely soaked, thank you very much, I think I can now declare you quite playful."<p>

Mary's responding laugh was breathless. "You gave as good as you got, Mr Nolan."

"Of course I did. You think I was just going to let you off easy? I only wish we'd thought to bring towels."

"Well, we hadn't been planning on you starting a covert water fight."

"Me starting? Baby, I think you need a refresher course on how this all happened."

Mary giggled. "I need no such thing. You picked me up and were throwing me around, I escaped and had to take revenge, and therefore it was all your fault."

David gaped, half laughing. "I think there's a flaw to that logic somewhere."

"Uh-uh," Mary returned, "I teach logic. To fifth graders. Which you know, makes me an expert. And so my logic is perfect. Because I said so. As a teacher. Expert."

David was laughing outright now, as he wrapped his arms around her. "Well, alright then. I've been schooled."

"Mmhmm. Glad to see you admit it."

"You know, your eyes light up when you think you've won."

Mary laughed. "Do they?"

"Yeah. You also light up when you're reaching the punchline of a joke you think is funny, when Ruby is bringing something you're looking forward to to the table, when an animal is within five feet of you, when you're teaching or talking about teaching, and when Emma, Henry or I walk in the room."

"I..."

"You wrinkle your nose when you're not enjoying something. You play with that ring of yours whenever you're flustered. You blush pink when you're happy, red when you're embarrassed - which happens whenever Em makes a comment about the way I look at you."

"David..."

"I was thinking about this earlier today, and I couldn't get it out of my mind, Mare, the way I can read you. The way I can look at you, and know how you're feeling, sometimes, when I'm really lucky, I can even tell what you're thinking."

Mary looked up at him then, wrapping her arms around his neck in the process. "And what am I thinking right now?"

His voice had roughened by the time he replied. "Your eyes have gone dark, almost the colour of emeralds. They're gorgeous. And they only, only do that... when you want me to kiss you."

Leaning in until her lips were a hairsbreadth from his, she whispered, "Good guess."

"Not a guess. Fact." David murmured, before kissing Mary Margaret for all they were worth.

* * *

><p>"Okay, kid, I think we've officially worn both you and Amy out."<p>

"Aww, man! Really?" Henry protested half-heartedly, eyes barely open.

"Yeah, you're kind of stumbling over your own feet, so... okay, here." Lifting Henry up, she began carrying her son in the direction she'd last seen Mary and David, Amy trailing slowly behind them.

"Heeeeeey," Henry complained sleepily, even as he wrapped one arm around Emma's neck. "I can walk. I'm way too old to be carried."

"That'd be a lot more convincing if you weren't burrowing your head into my shoulder, kid. Besides, humour me. I've never gotten to do this for you."

"Mmm. Okay, Mom."

If Henry felt the stutter in Emma's step, he didn't say anything.

Wandering far further down the beach than she'd been expecting to have to, she finally found Mary and David, locked in one hell of a kiss. Movie-worthy. Felt like there should be fireworks and sunsets and music swelling in the background. The perfect, utterly romantic moment.

But hell, she had a kid and _their _dog she needed to get home.

"Hey!" Emma yelled, as loudly as she dared, given the fact that she was pretty sure Henry was already half asleep.

Mary and David broke apart, both turning to look in her direction, sheepishness and frustration written all over both of their faces. It was enough to make Emma want to laugh... almost.

"Don't mind me breaking up the romantic climax here," Emma drawled. "But I've got a half-asleep ten year old in my arms, and an exhausted labrador at my feet. It's getting late and cold, the two of you are... freaking soaked, yeah, I don't want to know... and I want hot chocolate. So you two have to come help me get all of us home, right now, especially Henry, before his mother _does_ go all evil queen and 'off with her head' and crap."

"S'okay, Emom," Henry babbled, "If we let them kiss sum'more it could break the curse."

Henry was close enough to sleep that he didn't even ask why everyone else was suddenly cracking up.

"Okay, Em, we're coming. Want me to take Henry?"

"No, thanks David, but I've got him. You want to take Amy though?"

"Oh, she won't let me carry her. She hates that. But Mary and I will walk her, you just worry about Henry."

"Gee, thanks."

"You're very welcome," David drawled, as he wrapped his free arm around a giggling Mary's shoulders.

Together, they made their way back into town, splitting only when Emma took Henry back to Regina's house, while David and Mary fairly well dragged Amy upstairs into Mary's apartment, where the dog promptly staggered to her bed - for once, instead of the couch - and immediately fell asleep.

Sparing a moment to laugh at the dog, Mary proceeded into the kitchen, where she began washing the dishes and setting up for hot chocolate. "Are you going to want a mug?" she asked, feeling David come walking in behind her. "I figured that the least I could do was get the drink Emma so wanted ready for her."

"I'd love one. But why don't you let me finish the dishes while you get those set up? I'd offer to do the hot chocolates myself, but I'm fairly sure I'd ruin them."

"Oh, you definitely would," Mary teased. "You can't make the hot chocolates until you've learned the right way."

"Well this is me paying attention."

Smiling as she walked around the kitchen collecting the ingredients, she turned back to David, just finishing up the last couple dishes.

"Do you... do you have somewhere to stay tonight?"

David winced. "To be honest, I hadn't really thought about it. I came right here after I left the house, I just... needed so badly to be near you, after everything, that I hadn't considered anything else. I'll probably just go see if there's a room at the B&B."

"David, no," Mary responded, blushing. "You... you can stay here. If you like."

"I wouldn't want to impose."

"It's you. And it's me. Trust me, it wouldn't be an imposition."

"Well then," David replied, barely managing to keep from blushing himself. "I guess I'd better learn how to prepare our hot chocolate, huh?"

Mary's answering smile could have lit up the room.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: To quote Mary, early in this chapter: Crap. I did not, at all, mean to go almost two months without updating. I hope this chapter will earn me your forgiveness, as I also did not mean for it to be nearly as long as it is. So, good oops there? The good news is, I'm done work, which gave me time to really work on this chapter the last couple of days. The bad news is, in a week I start school, and I have no idea how much time I'll actually have for Freedom Love. Do know that I will be working on it when I can and when the muse strikes me. I'm not giving up on this story, no matter how long it may take me to get out updates. <strong>_

_**Now, question time. I've decided that when I get questions in reviews, I will answer them at the end of the next chapter, so that anyone else who may have the same question can read them. This chapter's lovely question comes from SnowandJames4eva: **_

**When Rumple said that Abigail and Frederick didn't have true love because she was too worried about Midas, does Abigail blame Snow for this? Or is she mad that Snow and James have the true love Rumple said she'd never experience?**

**_Abigail doesn't blame Snow for anything. She respects Snow, admires her, and I think, above all else, at least at that particular part of the story, envies her, and you could see that in how she was interacting with her. Though Abigail was angry, and chose not to believe what Rumplestilskin told them at first, she quickly came to realize that our favourite meddling imp had a point - there is something very, very different about Snow and Charming. Though the show seems to be heading more towards the idea that everyone has that one true love, in my story, I've chosen to look at the idea that "true" love is *incredibly* rare, almost impossible, and that's why Rumple is so obsessed with its magic. That's not to say that other characters won't have love, at all - in my story Abigail and Frederick do love each other, but it's a flawed love, complicated by Midas - not at all the same thing as what Snow and Charming have. So of course, Abigail envies it, but she can't blame Snow for having it. I think, more Abigail's issue with Snow at this point in my story is that Abigail sees in Snow what she wishes she was herself. Snow is an incredibly brave character, and when they were back in Fairy Tale Land, Abigail simply wasn't. But in Storybrooke, being the only one who has awoken from the curse, Abigail is going to get the chance to come into her own - we just might not always like how she goes about it. _**

**_Please, let me know if anyone else has questions! I'll be happy to answer them all in future Author's notes. _**

**_The document that I keep this story saved in on my computer (not including any Author's notes) is now at 162 pages, well over 50,000 words. And darlings, we aren't even close to finished. Things are about to get crazy. _**

**_Thanks, as always, for reading. _**


	13. All That Moves

**_Author's Note: So I had been on a short road trip to the US for some shopping the last couple of days. And you know what happens when I bring my laptop with me for a trip that involves me spending at least ten hours over two days in a car? Why, we get a second chapter in a week, that's what happens. _  
><strong>

**_We've got a story to move forward, after all. Enjoy. _**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twelve: All That Moves<strong>

It would have been far, far too easy to fall into a routine after everything. Go their separate ways to work in the mornings, come home to dinner and wine and conversation. Their jobs and daily lives were all so different that they never would have been lacking for topics. Take the dog for a walk to the beach, or through the woods, or even just quickly through town. Get back home, to enjoy hot chocolates and a movie, or debate over local politics (in other words, discussion of whatever hopelessly corrupt deed Regina or Mr. Gold had most recently gotten away with), or the occasional surprisingly competitive game of cards (David, for the life of him, could never figure out how Mary had such a poker face when he could read her with ease in every other aspect of their lives). Once done for the day, they'd all go off to bed, Emma upstairs, Mary crawling into her bed, and David making himself comfortable on the couch. Until, of course, they were certain that Emma was settled in her room for the night and not coming back downstairs, at which point David would promptly tip toe across the main room - to Mary's muffled laughter - and join Mary in her bed, wrapping his arms around her as he did so. They wouldn't have sex - neither wanting to turn what they had into an affair - but they both would sleep as soundly as they ever had, being so near each other.

Yes, it would have been easy, laughably so, David pondered, to have turned that first night after he'd left Kathryn into a life. He had enjoyed it that much, felt that immediately comfortable to have intersected their lives so closely, so soon.

It had just felt so damn right, to be there, in that little apartment, with Mary and Emma and the little zoo the three of them had started building themselves (it had been a surprise to realize how very often local birds visited Mary's yard, hoping for food, shelter, or comfort). It had felt like he had always been meant to be there with them, like it was ridiculous that he ever hadn't been.

There was nothing, _nothing _he could possibly want more in the world, than to be part of the unconventional little family they had made for themselves.

So the next morning when David woke up, nose buried in Mary's hair as though he'd been trying to breathe her in even in his sleep; limbs so intertwined with Mary's that he could barely tell where she ended and he began; feeling more content that split second between sleep and consciousness that he'd ever felt in his entire life... he knew he had to give it up.

He wanted what he felt right in that moment to be his forever. And if he wanted it that much, as he knew he did, he knew that he couldn't have it right now.

He wasn't going to allow Mary to be put into a situation where she would be judged, or gossiped about, or otherwise hurt. He would do it right, he vowed, and that meant not moving in with another woman six hours after leaving his wife. He'd get a room at the Bed and Breakfast as he'd originally considered, and he would find a lawyer and file for divorce just as soon as he got off work.

But for right this minute, he figured, glancing at Mary's alarm clock, he was going to snuggle back up to the woman he was in love with, and enjoy another twenty minutes of dozing before they'd have to get up.

* * *

><p>Emma Swan did not quite know how it had happened. She couldn't quite recall how she'd ended up with a roommate, and friends, and pets, and a kid, all of whom she'd both kill and die for. She didn't know how the kid she'd convinced herself at eighteen that she was prepared to give up had ten years later become everything to her; had made her feel like the Mom he'd referred to her as. (Wasn't sure how that one word could possibly mean that much to her either). She couldn't remember how she'd ended up with the world's coziest bed, in a whimsically decorated room, in an apartment she shared with another human being, with a cat who insisted on sleeping so close to her each night that she had developed a terrible fear of rolling over in her sleep. And most of all, she really wasn't sure how it was that she, Emma Swan, loner extraordinaire, proud owner of walls built so high around herself that were Humpty Dumpty to have fallen from hers, the king's men wouldn't have even <em>bothered<em> trying to put him together again (and oh God, she was spending too much time with Henry to have actually had that thought), had come to trust not one, but two other people so completely that she could share an apartment with them without a concern.

No, Emma thought, as she gently picked up a still sleeping Laci and moved her out of the way and then wiggled her way loose of the blankets and to the closet to get dressed, she never would have guessed that this would become her life, nor did she really get how it had. But she was happy now and she never had been before, and that, she figured, had to count for something.

As she quietly made her way to the top of the staircase, peeking down to try and ascertain if she was dangerously close to seeing something she really didn't want to see, she had to smile. She hadn't just ended up with friends, she'd ended up with a couple she was actually rooting for.

And damn, she thought, as she reached the bottom of the staircase to find Mary and David wrapped around each other -thankfully clothed - and sound asleep in Mary's bed, was she actually enjoying watching them figure it all out.

They were enough to almost make a romantic out of her. Almost.

Suddenly recalling quite clearly that David had been making himself up a bed on the couch the last she'd seen of him, Emma felt the wickedly amused grin she was coming to associate only with her two friends spread on her face. Oh man, she thought as she walked out the door - coffee mug in hand - with one last glance for her friends now stirring with the sound of Mary's alarm clock, was she going to have fun teasing them about this one later.

* * *

><p>The idea of smashing the clock into tiny little bits held a surprisingly strong appeal that morning.<p>

Wrapped so securely in David's arms all night, the night terrors that frequently plagued Mary Margaret had been held completely at bay in favour of pleasant, captivating, fascinating dreams of another land, another world. She had been able to speak to animals, and had been utterly unsurprised to understand their muted replies. Everything, literally, every last object had been beautiful, from the clothing made of fabrics so stunning they couldn't possibly be real, to the architecture, castles meant to simultaneously convey class and power, and to welcome all those who visited freely regardless of either, to the forest, each plant and flower more spectacular than the next. It has, truly, seemed as though within each individual object there dwelled its own tiny enchantment, as though everything had been sprinkled by fairy dust. And David, David had been right there beside her, every second, carrying himself with the kind of confidence and, somehow, regality that she'd never seen of him in real life.

He had called her his wife throughout, and each time her heart had soared.

Usually she dreamed of falling, of smoke and mirrors, of chasing something that could not be found, of glass tombs, and of a chilling laugh so filled with hatred that she awoke each morning relieved to find herself alive.

So yes, these dreams had been an all too pleasant change, one that Mary found herself not at all eager to wake from, even as the man holding her stirred next to her.

It did, however, make for a nice wake-up call when said man hummed contentedly, then kissed her on the forehead. Much preferable to the still blaring alarm clock.

Reaching over to shut the alarm off, Mary sighed, then looked to the man beside her, watching her with unfairly clear, awake eyes, given the early hour. "Morning," she whispered.

"Good morning," he murmured back, stroking a hand down Mary's face as he did so.

If she were a cat, she would have purred.

* * *

><p>"I love having you here," she told him later, staring resolutely at the coffee maker as she did so.<p>

He chuckled, low and rough, as he hooked a finger around her chin and tilted her head up to look at him. "And I love being here, with you, Mare. That was the best night I've had since I woke up from my coma, and now all I can think about is having every day of my life be as wonderful as that was."

The smile Mary gave him was damn near enough for him to drag the pair of them back to bed, work and lives and marriage that still needed ending be damned. God, did he want her.

_Do it right, Nolan. _

"Which is why," David continued, as though it hadn't been a minute or two since he'd finished his last thought, "I'm going to go to Granny's and book that room at the Bed and Breakfast.

He'd feared she'd turn away; feared he'd hurt her, but Mary continued to look at him with clear, curious eyes. "Can I ask why?" she questioned, and he was almost painfully relieved to hear how steady her voice still was.

"I want you. I want to be with you, I want us to be together," he told her, picking his words carefully, "And I am going to want that, want you, for the rest of my life. And for me to want you that way, I need to do this right. I need to end my marriage, before I move in here with you and Em. I refuse to give the the people of this town anything untoward to talk about. And I will not let anyone speak ill of you."

Mary nodded, understanding his point of view more, but wanting him to see her own, she retorted, "And if I do not care what they say about me?"

"I do. You're everything, Mary Margaret. You're the entire world to me, and I'm not going to let anyone make what I feel for you into less than that. People in this town talk, we both know they do. And I know that there's going to be some who will be critical no matter what. But if I do this right, which I plan on doing, I have to believe that most people will accept it."

Mary scrunched her face up, considering, then allowed her features to relax into a mock pout. "Okay, maybe you have a point. A tiny one."

With a victorious smile, David wrapped his arms around her. "What we've got between us is huge, Mare. I'm not going to let anyone make us feel small because of it."

"Okay," Mary agreed. "So long as you know I'd rather have you here, and you can change your mind. Even at like, three in the morning, if you want to come, you come. Emma won't come down to kill us until daylight, and we'll be able to escape before then."

David laughed, long and hard. She truly never would fail to thrill and delight him.

"Duly noted," he replied, still chuckling. He gazed at her carefully, relaxing at her calm, happy face. There wasn't the slightest hint of tension there. She truly did accept his decision, and in fact as he watched her, he could see her eyes growing darker. He felt reassured enough by it to be unable to keep from grinning at her.

"Come here, Emerald Eyes," he laughed, kissing her forehead, eyelids, the end of her nose, each cheek, before she finally got annoyed and grabbed his face, holding him steady, and kissing him properly.

"Wait," he murmured between kisses, somehow injecting a teasing note in his voice even as it roughened the way it always did when he desired her. "I can still come over here for dinner, right?"

She attempted to shove him away, cracking up, but he had too good a grip on her, as he tried - and as ever succeeded in - stealing a couple more kisses.

She was still laughing even as she told him they were going to be late, and as they ran out the door together.

"Emma?" he asked, halfway down to the street, waiting for Mary to lock the door.

"She usually wakes up and leaves after me. We're good."

"Excellent, I'd say. Very sneaky bed sharers."

He was pretty sure the sound of Mary Margaret's giggle was becoming his reason for existing.

* * *

><p>It was a good day. The kind of day every teacher dreams about. The class was well behaved, and engaged in their lessons. She'd had something of a breakthrough during math class on helping the kids to actually understand long division. She could see it on all of their faces, the light that comes to the eyes when finally understanding something that previously hadn't made any sense.<p>

She thought that all teachers must live for that light, that it couldn't possibly just be her who could fly on that light for days.

They were working on Charlotte's Web in reading, and the questions she was receiving from the kids were intuitive and well thought out. She'd nearly very nearly fallen over herself with pride when Henry suggested that there was something inspiring about Wilbur becoming a pig the whole family thought was special, proving, really, that you can't count anyone out; that even the smallest, even the weakest, can become something special with the help of someone who loves them.

The kids hadn't even complained when she'd told them it was time to pull out their grammar workbooks, and that much was a miracle that would have made her day in of itself.

Even at the end of the day, when she'd dismissed the class without homework as a reward for the wonderful job they'd done that day, the cheer she received in response had her grinning.

"No running," she reminded, as her students went charging out the door with the sound of the end-of-day bell as one... save for _the_ one.

"Henry," Mary smiled fondly. "Is there something you wanted?"

The young boy looked sheepish, and she was struck by how much he reminded her of Emma in that moment. "I um... was wondering if I could ask you a question?"

"Of course you can."

"I just wanted to know if Emma was alright when she got home after she dropped me off at my house last night?"

Mary frowned, just slightly confused. "She was, Henry. Actually, now that I think of it, she was in a very good mood last night. There was a light in her eyes, the kind that people only get when something has made them very, very happy."

Henry's whole face had lit up. "Really? You mean it?"

"Yes Henry, I mean it. Can I ask why you wanted to know, or is that between you and Emma?"

"Oh, it's nothing. I just remembered that while Emma was carrying me down the beach last night, I might have called her Mom, without thinking, cause I was so sleepy. And she kind of stumbled a little bit when I said it. And I just wanted to make sure I didn't scare her or anything. I hadn't planned on calling her Mom yet, because I wasn't sure if she was ready. It just sort of slipped out, because that's what I think of her as."

Mary could not remember adoring another human - not even David - more than she adored Henry in that moment.

"Well, she was just fine, honey. Great, even. I think what you said may have meant a very great deal to her."

"Awesome," Henry said with his infectious grin. "Thanks, Mary!"

The boy then turned to leave the classroom with the same glee his classmates had.

"And Henry?" Mary called.

"Yes?"

"Speaking as Ms. Blanchard now... you did very, very well in class today."

Henry's face was lit with pride as he waved goodbye and left the room, and as she packed up her own things, Mary had the errant thought that most teachers must live for that too.

* * *

><p>It was a good day. Maybe not by normal definition - and by maybe not, she meant definitely not. She'd been called down to the hospital on the report of a disturbance, and found Leroy picking a very loud argument with everyone he met. When she herself had tried to talk to him, she could smell the alcohol on his breath from a mile away. She'd ended up taking him in and putting him in a jail cell for the night largely to keep him from hurting himself or anyone else. He'd get the chance to sober up a bit, and from the quietly accepting way he'd let himself be led into the sheriff's office (she still couldn't think of it as hers), she sensed he was grateful for it.<p>

Regina had come in, plainly in a rotten mood - even for her - looking for a fight, snarling about having both Leroy and Emma thrown out of her town. Fueled by a joy that Regina couldn't possibly understand, and thus in too good of a mood to give in to the mayor's demand for a fight, Emma had just leaned back in a chair, smirking at Regina without a word. Picking up on Emma's cue, Leroy too had just made himself comfortable at the bars of his cell, staring at Regina with a rare smile, all the while not uttering a syllable.

It was the first Emma had seen of the mayor being utterly discombobulated, and she enjoyed it immensely, breaking out in laughter the moment the mayor had clip-clopped her high heeled way out the door, Leroy joining in.

"I'll tell you, sister," the gruff man muttered, moving to make himself comfortable on the cot. "That was worth the night in jail."

Emma lifted her coffee mug to Leroy in toast even as she turned to get started on paperwork she'd long been procrastinating on, due to its utter tediousness.

Her son had called her Mom last night, and it hadn't scared her. She'd felt real, live, actual joy to hear it.

She could do anything with a smile on her face on this day.

* * *

><p>It was a good day.<p>

Six different people had come into the shelter looking to adopt new pets, which easily was a record since David had been working there. Two of the people, including a woman he felt sure he'd never seen before had smiled in recognition at him, and explained to him that they'd seen him walking around with Sheriff Swan, one of the local schoolteachers, and a black lab, and having always wanted pets themselves, been inspired by them to go and get a dog themselves. Both times he smiled and said he was honoured to have played any part in inspiring them to make the wonderful decision of adopting a pet. When asked about Amy, he'd simply laughed and said that they had a 'joint custody' arrangement for the dog.

Nobody asked further questions, which worked for him.

Having spent the morning working the front desk, he'd switched to working with the animals for the afternoon, which he infinitely preferred. Walking around replacing emptied food bowls for dinner, he had been stunned, and thrilled, when one of the most people-shy dogs in the shelter, a German shepherd that had been found abandoned by its owner down the main stretch of town, approached him so close as to lick his hand, before starting on her dinner with more of an appetite than he'd seen of her since he'd started working there. One of his co-workers, an older woman he believed was named Iris, had come in the room bringing fresh water, and amazed as he'd been, commented on the shepherd. "She looks good today."

"Yeah," David smiled, not looking away from the dog. "I guess she's finally turned a corner."

"Or you've just once again got the magic touch."

"I'm sorry?"

"I've worked here for... as long as I can remember, David. I've seen a lot of employees come and go. And you're the best with animals that I've seen come through here. They trust you. We could use a lot more of that around here."

David raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Thank you for saying that."

"Not just saying it. I mean it, young man. You're amazing with them."

Long after Iris had left the room, he stayed watching the shepherd he'd decided to name Lola. If he had ever had a day in which he felt better about himself and his life, he thought, it must have come well before he'd lost his memory.

* * *

><p>As Mary Margaret unlocked the door and walked into her apartment - immediately greeted, as always, by Amy - she had the rather sudden thought that she hadn't heard a peep from Mika all day.<p>

Which, of course, changed immediately once she'd thought it.

_That's it! _Mika cheered, so loudly Mary only just managed to keep from jumping in surprise.

_Um, indoor voices when speaking in my head, Mika. Ouch. What's it? _

_I hadn't been able to hear your thoughts at all since... well, since we realized last night that I was hearing what you were thinking. And now I know why - I heard you now, because you just thought of me for the first time since last night. I can only tell what you're thinking when it's specifically at or about me - otherwise, I'm still stuck only relying on what you say out loud. _

_Well that's useful to know_, Mary thought. _But that's still new, right? The fact that you can hear what I'm thinking at all? Has anything else changed? Can you only speak up now if I think of you first? _

_It's definitely new, Mare. And no, I can still make you hear me whenever I want to be heard, like last night, when you went all oh-no-I-can't-flirt with David. By the way, that was some rather spectacular flirting for, you know, someone who's so convinced she can't. "My poor lip?" The poor guy looked like he was ready to pass out. Or jump you. Definitely jump you. Which could have been fun. _

Mary laughed out loud, sincerely amused, and it occurred to her that it was a damn good thing she was alone - standing in the middle of her apartment laughing to herself, yeah, that would have looked sane. _I was embracing my inner you... and hell yeah, that could have been fun. But we're taking things slow. Were you around for the conversation this morning? _

_Of course. I was sitting up here eating popcorn, as I am for all your interesting conversations. That shit gets entertaining. _

_Oh, please don't tell me were dropping any kernels all up in my head. _

Mika laughed, and the feeling of it reverberated throughout Mary's head. _Oh you become more like me everyday Mare. I was worried you wouldn't notice the joke, and here you go and throw it right back to me. _

_If you're going to give me fun little traits like a sense of humour, spunk, and a growing ability to flirt, I'll take all of it. But seriously, what did you think? _

_I thought that he becomes more like... my part of him everyday. David is such an honourable man, and he wants so badly to do right by you. I applaud him from my little corner of your head. _

Mary pouted. _Fine, take his side, ruin my fun. But... Mika, when you refer to your part of him, yet not five minutes ago were joking about him jumping me - does this not all feel incredibly strange for you? Are you really okay with all of this? _

_Yes... and no. I'm part of you, Mare. And the closer you get to him, the more I feel like me; and the more you're near him, the more I can see - that part of him, not speaking to him the way I can you, but influencing him, playing a role in his personality. So of course, I'm jealous, somehow, which makes limited sense, because I'm right here with you for everything you experience with David, but it's not just *me* and him. But at the same time, of course I have to root for you. Every kiss, every moment you share with him, it's beautiful. I want to be near my part just as much, if not a million times more than you want to be near the whole. _

_I can't imagine wanting to be near him more than I already do_, Mary considered. _I already feel this ache for him whenever he's not around. You must be so very in love. _

_We consumed each other. I hope some day we'll be able to find a way to get it back, for real. _

_What does that mean? _Mary wondered.

Mika sighed. _Add that to the very long list of things I'm unable to tell you, Mary. I'm sorry. I'd tell you if I could, but there's... forces stopping me that you cannot possibly understand right now. But you can figure it out. You've just got to work through it all. Think about what my being real could mean. _

_I'll keep working on that. I'm sorry I can't figure it all out right this minute. It must be every bit as frustrating for you as it is me, to just be there, having all the answers, but not being able to tell me - but wait, if you only exist in my own head, how is it I haven't been able to figure it out from your thoughts? _

_My thoughts are contained by the same forces that prevent me from outright telling you the truth. There are things I am prevented from sharing with you. But Mare... you need to know, that doesn't mean that details won't leak from my consciousness to yours. All forces have flaws. _

_Why do I have a feeling you just gave me a big, giant hint? _

_If you have that feeling, it must mean something. Go with it, Mare. It's a start. _

_Okay. _

_Okay. Now, stop thinking to me for a little bit, before you give yourself a headache. There's only so many voices in ones head one can take. _

* * *

><p>Once finished his shift for the day, David had gone back to the front desk at the animal shelter to pull out the Storybrooke phone book, with the idea of looking up information for lawyers. The book was somehow thinner than he'd expected, and it occurred to him that Storybrooke must be a smaller town than he'd ever really realized. This thought was reinforced dramatically when he found that under the heading Lawyer, there was only one entry.<p>

Making his way quickly to the pawn shop, he found himself barely in the door, not even having the chance to glance around before being addressed.

"Good evening, Mr. Nolan. Whatever can I do for you?" the shop's proprietor asked, and upon meeting his eye, David found himself with the eerie, impossible feeling that the older man had been waiting for him.

Shaking the unsettling sensation off, David turned and walked towards the counter behind which Mr. Gold awaited.

"Ah, yeah," David started, "I've just learned that you're the - well, the only lawyer in town. Or at least, the only one listed in the phone book. And I could use your services."

"Go on," Mr. Gold said quietly, a sneaky smile on his face. "Haven't gotten yourself in trouble, have you?"

"No, not at all. I was wondering about how to start... how to go about filing for divorce."

"Of course," Mr. Gold silkily replied, as though he'd been expecting David to ask him for this for some time. "That shouldn't be difficult at all. Come along back to my office, Mr. Nolan, and let us get started."

Just less than an hour later, David made his way out of Mr Gold's shop with a smile on his face. Finally, he thought, some real progress in his life. Moving forward, at long last.

* * *

><p>Caught up as he was in thoughts of his future, he was completely unaware of anyone watching him, expression growing ever darker at the happiness on his own face.<p>

Storming into the very shop David Nolan had just left, Regina Mills rounded on Mr. Gold, eyes flashing. "What was that all about?" she demanded.

"I'm not at liberty to say," Mr. Gold commented blandly, with a pleasant smile on his face. "Secrets between a lawyer and his client, you understand, Madam Mayor."

"Cut the crap, Gold. You answer to me."

"I answer to no one," Mr. Gold replied, concentrating on slipping some loose papers into his briefcase.

Squinting at the papers as he did so, Regina gaped. "_Divorce_ papers?" she snarled. "Do _not _tell me that they were David -"

"I don't tell you anything, Mayor Mills. I enjoy having my legal license. I have little interest on losing my ability to practice law in your fully on the up-and-up little town on a simple matter of confidentiality."

Regina rolled her eyes. "I happen to know that David Nolan recently left his wife."

"I would not know anything of it. It is my preference not to engage in the petty gossip of this town."

Regina continued as though he had not said anything. "And I just saw you slip divorce papers..."

"Ah, and what a thing divorce is, is it not? Most sad in so many situations... and yet, so often, for some it still being unquestionably the right thing."

"Right thing? David Nolan leaving his wife is not a good thing."

"For you, perhaps not. But for Mr. Nolan? Why it may be exactly what he needs. We cannot know the motives of anyone in the process of leaving a spouse. Some of the people I represent... well, you'd almost think they'd never loved the ones they are leaving at all." Mr. Gold said, sly humour flashing in his eyes.

"Then you admit it. The papers were his."

"I admit nothing, Madam Mayor. You were the one who told me Mr. Nolan had left his wife. I didn't say anything."

Regina's face twisted in fury. "You smug little bastard..."

"Temper, temper. I do believe I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I need to lock up my shop for the night, and I cannot do that while you are here."

"We are not finished!"

"Oh but we are," Mr. Gold stated, every word edged with malice. "And you are leaving. _Please_."

Not even bothering to watch as Regina Mills stomped out of his shop, Mr. Gold spared a moment to crack a satisfied grin.

All was going as it should.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: So, first things first. Thank you, thank you, thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter. Your wonderful feedback got me excited to keep working on Freedom Love, and is the major reason (aside from the afore mentioned abundance of free time in a moving vehicle) that this chapter is ready to go so quickly. <strong>_

_**Next up, Q&A time. This chapter's question is coming from La5021: **_

**Is the curse preventing Snow/Mika from actually telling Mary-Margaret who she really is or is she refraining from mentioning it to, well, keep her sane?**

_**This question, I think, was definitively answered in this chapter, and touched on very briefly back in the 'Voices in Her Head' chapter when Snow first started really being able to communicate with Mary. No, Snow cannot just tell Mary everything. She cannot tell her she is Snow White, cannot tell her that David is Prince Charming, and cannot tell her that the reason why every time Emma says anything hinting at her trouble past it nearly breaks her in half is that Emma is her daughter. Snow is still cursed, which prevents her from telling Mary any of these things. But what we've seen in the last few chapters - Snow becoming more and more of an influence on Mary - is Snow fighting the curse. The more Snow keeps fighting, the more she very well may break through. And hey - in this chapter, we got the sense that there's at least one loophole. The curse is not infallible - it's just a question of who finds its flaws, and how they go about using them. **_

_**Again, if anyone else has questions, I'm having a lot of fun answering them. AND it helps me to know what elements of my story are unclear. Win-win! **_

**_Thanks, as always, for reading. _**


	14. Shine On

**Chapter Thirteen: Shine On **

They'd made plans for that weekend with a vaguely child-like sense of glee. The weather forecast did not seem overly pleasant - cold and dreary, and when asked about the probability of precipitation, the local weatherman had replied to the news anchor that there was no 'probably' about it, it was going to rain, and rain hard, all weekend long.

Don't make plans, had been the plainly stated advice.

Mary Margaret Blanchard and Emma Swan had scoffed. Rainy, cold, windy, miserable weekend? That just meant that you had to make the right kind of plans.

And, as Mary had declared, that weatherman always had been something of an arrogant ass. Been in the job too long, probably. Although he hadn't aged much - at all - in all the time she'd watched his forecasts, she'd mused wonderingly, so at least he had that working for him.

She'd blushed pink at Emma's amused gape.

She really didn't sugar-coat things much, these days. Which worked for Emma. The spunk was entertaining.

But spunky or not, Mary Margaret was still a bit of a home girl, and still loved the idea of spending time in a cozy apartment on a rainy day watching movies. Curl up on the couch wrapped in blankets, sipping hot chocolate, eating popcorn - no, something freshly baked, be it her lemon blueberry muffins, or something as basic as chocolate chip cookies. Old movies. Light a couple of candles - she certainly had plenty, things that smell pretty had always been a weakness of hers - and otherwise turn the lights out, so the candles provided the only light, and at that just a warm glow. They'd just be able to hear the rain hitting the windows over the movie, but it wouldn't matter, because they'd be warm and cozy and happy inside.

Mary Margaret had really just been thinking out loud, but Emma Swan was _sold_. The idea of a weekend like this, for a woman who was still getting used to the whole having a home thing? Well, this all sounded quite a bit like heaven.

So, they'd had a plan. Saturday would be spent baking, and teaching Emma in the process - Mary had just about fallen over when Emma had mentioned that she had never baked anything before, and so the list of things that Mary wanted to bake so Emma could learn had grown mightily. Sunday, the worse looking day with the severe storm watch in effect, would be their official movie and stuff their faces with desserts without a care in the world day.

They'd had a plan.

So when Emma woke up early that Saturday morning to the jarring and conflicting sounds of rain pounding her bedroom window, and her cell phone ringing, she groaned bitterly into her pillow, and wondered if the Sheriff accidentally-on-purpose doesn't hear her phone, did anything really happen?

Nothing good ever came of early morning phone calls on a weekend.

She couldn't hide the annoyed growl in her voice as she answered, even though she felt bad. The dispatcher was only doing their job, and there had been a report of a break-in. Hearing the address read out, she only just managed to keep from groaning audibly.

"I'm on it. Thank you."

Hanging up, she tossed the phone somewhere behind her - after all the times it could have broken and it hadn't, she was pretty sure it was indestructible anyway - and as it landed on the floor with a thud she buried her face in her pillow and whined like a six year old.

At Laci's curious mew, Emma lifted her head back up to look at her. "I'll tell you, furball. Life is so much easier for a cat."

* * *

><p>Having dressed quickly, Emma ran downstairs and started the coffee maker, then eyed the potential of the food they had in the kitchen for a breakfast on the go. Figuring fruit would be the best bet, she washed an apple, prepared her coffee mug, and placed both on the table by the door. She then wandered into Mary's bedroom alcove. Usually she wouldn't bother waking her roommate up, but they'd been so looking forward to their day, and she couldn't bring herself to leave Mary to wake up to nothing but a note.<p>

Still though, Emma felt guilty as she tiptoed over to the head of Mary's bed, then kneeled on the floor. Mary was clearly in a very deep sleep, and obviously dreaming as she mumbled to herself.

"Mare?" Emma whispered, shaking her friend lightly by the shoulder.

"Mmm, no. No, don't... don't eat the apple."

Emma shook her head, bemused, at her friend. "Um? Okay. I won't. I'll grab breakfast at Granny's. Listen, Mare, wake up for a second."

Finally startling awake, Mary shot up, with Emma reaching out to calm her.

"Hey, hey, calm down, it's _me_."

"Em," Mary muttered, blinking the sleepiness out of her eyes. "Geez, what time is it?"

"Too early. You can go back to sleep in a minute, I just needed to tell you that I have to take off. Someone phoned in a break-in at Mr. Gold's, and I've got to go check it out."

"Oh, okay. You'll be careful?"

"I always am. I'm sorry I woke you, I just didn't want you to wake up to an empty apartment when we had our whole weekend planned out..."

Wide awake at that point, Mary sighed. "Is that what this is about? Emma, it's okay. You're the sheriff, I understand that sometimes plans will fall through. If nothing comes up tomorrow, we'll still be able to have our movie day. I'll do the baking today, and depending on what time you get home, I'll still be able to show you how to make something. You just worry about your job."

"I know. I'm being stupid. I just... I was really looking forward to today, and now I've gone and wrecked it."

"You haven't wrecked anything, Em. We'll pick another day where I can show you how to use up an embarrassing amount of butter and sugar. I am determined to teach you how to bake. It's happening, whether you like it or not. Even if you get home too late to help with anything today, there will be another time. This wasn't a one time deal, you know?"

"It's not?"

"No! You're my roommate. Baking fits are part of the deal with me. So you miss some of this one, because you have to go be important. I'll live. And I'll make sure you have something - or a lot of things - yummy to eat when you get home."

"Okay," Emma said with a smile. "I guess I've still got a lot to learn about... having someone be there."

"Get used to it, sweetie."

Moved, Emma looked away, then peeked back at her friend through the corner of her eye. "You're pretty awesome, you know that?"

"Now she's getting it!" Mary drawled with a wide grin.

Emma snorted, then got back up. "Damn cocky though. Anyway, I'm going to take off, deal with this. Go back to sleep. It's too early, being awake is like going against nature."

"Nah, I'm up now." Mary decided as she crawled out of her bed and wandered into the kitchen.

"Alright, there's coffee in the pot then," Emma called back on her way to grab her jacket. "I made a little extra just in case."

"Thank you, Emma. Good luck with Mr. Gold."

Eyebrow raised, Emma made her way out the door. "Thanks. I'm gonna need it."

Freezing in place as a thought occurred to her, Emma turned back. "Mare? When I went to wake you up, you were talking in your sleep. Something about don't eat the apple?"

Mika startled so suddenly that Mary had to catch her breath.

"Do you remember what you were dreaming about?" Emma continued, not having noticed anything.

Caught off guard for a moment, Mary paused to think. She'd realized the last couple of days that she'd become more in tune with Mika's feelings, sensing the tenor of them even when Mika was not vocal. She'd felt Mika's melancholy, only a couple of minutes earlier, as concern for Emma had permeated the feel of her. That much wasn't new. So it was with interest, that Mary noted Mika stirring now; intrigue, hope, and if she wasn't mistaken, just the slightest hint of panic emanating from her.

This meant something. If only she had the slightest clue what it was.

Mary shrugged, puzzled. "I haven't the slightest idea. I don't like apples. Never been able to stomach them, for some reason."

It was difficult to ignore the feeling of Mika deflating enough to keep her focus on Emma.

Emma laughed. "Come on. Seriously? Then why are there always apples in the fruit basket?"

"You like apples, Emma. That's reason enough for me to buy them."

Thrown off for the second time in only a few minutes, and again trying hard not to reveal how much a simple, stupid little thing like a fruit meant to her, Emma bit her lip and looked away. Staring at the door, Emma muttered, "You're uh... you're a lot better at this roommate thing than I am."

Having just finished adding cream and sugar to her coffee, Mary Margaret looked up, waited for Emma look back at her, then smiled. Raising her mug in toast to her friend, she declared, "I think you're not giving yourself enough credit."

Not missing the gesture, Emma's answering smile was as genuine as Mary had ever seen it.

With a wink back, Mary commented, "Now, you better get going, before Mr. Gold gets impatient and decides to take the investigation into his own hands."

"Oh. God. It's bad that I can so picture that happening," Emma sighed. "And I really don't want to deal with that. Now I'm thinking that I just stay here."

Indulgent grin prominent on her face, Mary rolled her eyes, and pointed at the door. "Go," she mouthed.

Giggling as she so rarely did, Emma finally turned to leave. "Going!" she announced just as the door slammed shut behind her.

_You're making her better._ Mika murmured wistfully.

_I hope so. Oh, I hope so. _

* * *

><p>After eating a quick breakfast, Mary had looked out the window into the steady, but fairly light rain, sighed, and realized that the weather wasn't going to get any better than that all day. Getting dressed quickly in a hoodie and jeans, and throwing on a rain jacket, she took Amy out on a very fast, short walk.<p>

They were both completely soaked by the time they made it back into her building anyway, and as Amy shook off some of the access water while Mary unlocked the door, Mary couldn't help but laugh even as she groaned.

"You didn't enjoy that any more than I did, did you Ames?"

After letting the dog off leash - and watching with a smile as she made a beeline for her bed and curled herself into the tightest ball possible (it had been damn cold out there) - Mary went and took a quick but wonderfully, thankfully warm shower, then made her way into the kitchen.

She was going through her recipe box, picking out the recipes she wanted to bake that day, when she finally spoke up.

"You going to tell me what happened when Emma was asking me about the apple dream? Or is that just one more thing you can't share?"

_Speaking out loud again, are we? _Mika asked, dryly.

_Just wanted to make sure you were paying attention. No one else is here, it worked. So? _

_I've got no idea what you're talking about, Mary. _

_I'm a teacher. I know the look of it when someone sits up, pays attention. Apparently I know the feel of it when it happens in my own head too. Something about the question got to you. What?_

_Mare... _

Frustrated, Mary slammed her recipe box down on the counter, and started rummaging in her baking cupboard for the necessary ingredients for the baked lemon donuts she thought Emma would enjoy. She hadn't been planning on making them in her baking extravaganza, but hell, Emma hadn't been planning on getting called into work. She deserved an extra special treat when she got home.

_I get it if you can't explain to me what it meant. You haven't been able to explain anything to me, Mika, so that's not going to be new. But damn it, you'd been telling me when something mattered. Can't you at least tell me that? I don't even remember whatever I was dreaming. All I know is Emma's asking me about apples, and you get jumpy. I ask if there's something there that I should be paying attention to, and you won't give me an answer. What am I missing? _

_You're not missing anything. Go with what you've got. _

Sighing, Mary was unable to keep the sarcasm out of her mental voice. _As always, right? Just go with it. _

_It's something, hun. You've got something. Stop worrying so much about what I haven't told you, and pay more attention to what I have. _

Mary laughed, good-naturedly, even as she began measuring out the first ingredients. _You mean you actually have told me something? _

_Well, mostly I've just provided sarcastic commentary. But there was actual info given in between. You know, if you were paying attention. _

_Sure. That I've got a voice in my head. That it's not my own imagination, that you're real, that you're something separate from me. That you're connected to David, or some part of him. That you can't really tell me more than that, because something beyond you controls what you can say to me. But that I can figure it all out, if I think really, really hard. _

_Well, yeah, that about covers it... _

Letting out her breath with a huff, Mary continued. _I wasn't done. You've told me that all forces have flaws, that though you can't tell me anything, there are other ways. That things could leak... _

Mary froze midway through measuring out a half cup of sugar; granules overflowing onto her counter.

_Mare? What is it? _

_You told me that things could leak. From your consciousness to mine. Dreaming. You meant dreaming! That wasn't my dream that made me talk in my sleep, it was yours! When I'm asleep... you must sleep too. We become blurred, become one, because I'm not conscious to know the difference between you and me, and you're not conscious for anything I can't know to be blocked. Whatever force keeps you from telling me things, it's not in play during sleep. There's no separation between us then. I experience your dreams. _

With no response, Mary started to worry. As she was paying attention, she could _feel_ Mika fighting against something, and she wondered what exactly it was they were up against.

Knowing that speaking out loud tended to focus Mika, she did so then, calmly and quietly. "Mika. Talk to me."

Winded, but focused, Mika finally replied. _I told you I'd told you something. And that you could work it out. This is the first step. Proud of you, Mare. _

Hardly able to believe what was happening in her own head, Mary took a couple of deep breaths, and gave herself a moment to clean up the mess she had made of the sugar. Taking just a couple of minutes to wipe down the counter - a menial task if ever there was one - grounded her, allowed her to keep going.

_You were just fighting against... whatever it is? _

_Yes. It's not easy. I had to find what I could say. _

_Now that I've figured out this weakness to it... is that going to be a problem? Will my ability to experience your dreams go away now that I've said it? God should I have kept quiet?! _

_No, Mary. The... force is not human. It doesn't think, doesn't feel, doesn't remember... it doesn't know what's going on between you and me. It controls me, but it cannot adapt when I - or you - find ways to fight it. If my dreams leak through, you'll still experience them. _

_Okay. Okay then. So this morning when Emma woke me up, you... I... we... were dreaming about... something to do with apples? _

_You know I can't tell you that. _

_No, I know. Damn. I really wish I could remember what we were dreaming. _

_It's okay. We'll get there. _

_I don't suppose you could tailor your dreams to give me a few more hints? Or hey, tell me outright! Spell it all out for me in a dream! _

Mika's laugh almost seemed to echo through Mary's brain, her relief at finally making some kind of a breakthrough as blatant and joy-filled as Mary's own. _'Fraid not. I don't have any more control over what I dream than you do. Hell, I can't even tell why some of my dreams float into your consciousness and others don't. Can't help you there. The good news is, you've finally got something concrete to go on, honey. _

_Honey?_

_You matter, Mare. I know you weren't overly thrilled when I showed up in your head... and who could blame you for that. And maybe I resented you too, for so many years, when I was just... nothing. A presence buried in you, and barely that. And then I woke up, or you started really sensing me, or whatever happened when you started falling for David, and I was stuck up in your head, still unable to really communicate, only watch your life as you lived it. I already cared, so much, about David, and Emma and Henry, and then suddenly I could talk to you. And being able to talk to someone meant so much as it was, but it wasn't someone, it was you. I just didn't expect to care so very much about you too. So, yes, Mary. Honey. _

Touched, Mary giggled, made light of the moment for just a second. _Yeah, well, you're not so bad for a pain in the ass phantom voice in my head. _

Mika laughed. _Well thank you for that. Truly heartwarming. _

_You matter, Mika. More than I would have imagined possible just a couple of weeks ago. _

_I know. It's when this change happened, remember? When I started being able to hear your thoughts when they were directed at me? You were worrying about me, and suddenly I could hear you. That's why. You cared about me. _

_I'd cared about you before then, I think. I just didn't know I did, until that moment. I'd accepted you for what you were... but I guess that was the moment that I embraced you for it. It's very strange, I'm not going to lie, but it's kind of nice, you know, having someone always there. A friend. One who seems to be hurting, so very often. I worry about you. I wish I could do more for you - or do it faster, anyway. _

_You're doing plenty. I can't ask you for more. _

_Well then, _Mary thought, as she considered the spread of abandoned ingredients on her counter_. I think it's about time I get back to doing something for Emma. _

* * *

><p>Having finally put the donuts in the oven to bake, Mary Margaret had just begun considering her recipe for Rocky Road squares - and whether or not Emma would find them to be just a little bit too sweet - when she heard her phone ring.<p>

Wiping her hands on a paper towel as she walked to the dining area where she'd left her cell phone, she was unable to keep the smile off her face to see David's name on the caller ID.

"David," she answered, completely aware of the obvious happiness of her voice, and not caring in the slightest. "What are you up to today?"

"Sitting in my room, bored out of my mind," David laughed in reply. "I worked out my schedule with the shelter to work Mondays to Fridays and have weekends off. My first weekend completely free, and this end of the world storm shows up."

"The end of the world storm is not until tomorrow. Today's just..."

"Sucky?"

"I was going to go with dreary. But sucky's apt."

"I know it is, it's why I said it," David proclaimed, pleased to hear the responding giggle he'd been going for.

"I've never actually minded rainy days. There's something relaxing about the sound of rain hitting a window. Always makes me feel like curling up next to a fireplace and reading a book."

"Well, we both lack the fireplace," David sighed, "and I've been trying with the book. But the only book I've got here that I haven't already read, I just can't get into."

"What's the book?"

"To Kill a Mockingbird."

Mary gasped. "Oh David, that's a wonderful book. It is a bit difficult to get into right at the start, but don't give up on it. It's one of the classics for a reason."

David chuckled, and his voice was unmistakably fond as he replied, "Mare, have you ever come across a book you _didn't_ like?"

Mary scoffed, "I'll have you know, Mr Nolan, that there's been several."

"Name 'em."

Casting her mind about desperately, she triumphantly landed on one. "Great Gatsby! Never liked it."

"A teacher hating Gatsby? Why Ms Blanchard, I'm shocked."

Balancing the phone on her shoulder as she decided she'd make the Rocky Road after all - if Emma didn't like it, more for herself - and starting to collect the ingredients with her free hand, Mary snorted. "You'd be amazed how often teachers dislike what it is they're teaching."

"But is Gatsby not... how did you put it... 'one of the classics for a reason'?"

"It's weird. I do not accept weird classics."

"Very well then. Continue."

"Continue?"

"I was expressly informed that there are several books you dislike, Ms. Blanchard. You've named one."

"Well I can't think of them right now! I'm concentrating, so shush!"

Amusement and teasing dropping from his voice in exchange for pure curiosity, David couldn't help but ask, "What are you concentrating on?"

"My delicious Rocky Road squares. Emma and I were going to have a baking day today, in preparation for a movie day tomorrow, but she got called in to work. So I'm doing the baking myself so that we can still have our movie day tomorrow."

"That sounds really great. Emma bakes?"

"No, she's hopeless in the kitchen. That's why we were making a whole day of it, so I could teach her how to make a bunch of things. Em was really disappointed when she was called in. She even woke me up to let me know she had to go and apologize. I mean, it's her job, no one could blame her for it. And I'll teach her stuff some other time, without question. She loves homemade food, loves desserts and baked goods, and it's just too sad that she doesn't know how to make herself something that makes her that happy."

"Yeah..."

Suspicion causing Mary to stop dead in her tracks had her glaring at nothing. "David..."

"Yeah?"

"Do I detect a note of sheepishness in your voice there?"

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

"David. You can cook, can't you?"

Embarrassed, and immensely relieved that Mary couldn't see his face at the exact moment, he made light in his response. "Well, define cook?"

"David!" Mary chastised, most ineffectively due to the laugh in her voice.

"I can throw some things together. Nothing complicated, and definitely nothing that involves the word bake."

"Get over here."

David laughed in response. "What?"

"I'm serious, Nolan. I'm spending this afternoon baking, and you're going to come learn something. So ditch the book you were never actually going to read, and get your butt over here."

"Bossy."

"And you know it. Best to just listen to me if you know what's good for you."

Standing up to grab his coat, David glanced out the window of the room he was renting at the Bed and Breakfast and winced. "It's an absolute downpour out there."

"Don't be a baby. You know you'll regret not coming... you'll get cooking skills, delicious food, and time with me out of the deal. Isn't that worth getting a little wet?"

"You drive a very tempting bargain, Ms Blanchard."

"Well here's the deal breaker, Mr Nolan. I'm just pulling lemon donuts out of the oven now. And God," she murmured, dragging out the word, "do they ever smell good. Just the perfect blend of tart and sweet. But I'm going to need to make sure they taste just as good before Emma has one. She'll have had a rough day, I want everything perfect when she gets home. Which means I need a taste tester..."

"Hell, I'm on my way."

"Fantastic decision, Mr Nolan."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'll see you in a few."

* * *

><p>"You're soaked!" Mary gasped upon answering the door.<p>

Grinning at her, David responded, "I believe I mentioned the downpour..."

"Have you ever heard of _running_?" Mary called sardonically from the bathroom she'd disappeared into to grab some towels.

"Of course I have," he replied, taking the towel Mary offered him with a nod of thanks, and beginning to dry off his face and hair. "I did that all the way here."

At Mary's stunned silence, David peeked out from behind the towel, a delighted and slightly sly smile on his face. "Kidding."

Laughing, Mary smacked David with one of the towels she still held. "Ass!"

"It was worth it for the look on your face. For a split second there, you actually believed me, and it was fantastic."

"You _would_ enjoy the fact that, for a split second there, I thought you were that dumb."

"Ouch! That hurts me, Blanchard, that hurts me deep inside."

Rolling her eyes, but with a smile that took the bite out of the gesture, she wandered back into the kitchen area, David following behind her. "Hurry up and get dry, I'm going to need your help in here."

Resisting the urge to shake the water off like Amy would - knowing that doing so would definitely not earn him any points - David continued to dry off while simultaneously gawking at Mary's kitchen. The donuts she'd mentioned earlier were cooling on some kind of wire rack, there was a mixing bowl of some chocolatey substance that looked fantastic, there were ingredients everywhere, and if his initial count was right, there were seven recipe cards piled up on the counter.

"So, when you say baking day, you mean BAKING DAY, all caps then?"

"Something like that," she smiled, glancing up at David for a second. "My God, you're still drenched. You got this wet just going from your truck?"

"Yeah. Was I not clear about the downpour?"

Pointing with a wooden spoon, Mary directed him towards the radiator. "Go and sit over there. Flip your coat and... shirt over the chair by it. The heat's on, hopefully it'll help you dry off in time to help with the next recipe. I'll finish up with the Rocky Road for now."

Sitting down by the radiator, and tossing his coat over the chair as directed, David asked, "What's in the Rocky Road?"

"Better question is, what isn't. Chocolate, butterscotch chips, mini marshmallows, coconut... I know it sounds weird, and it comes out looking like a big pile of mush, but it is fantastic mush."

"I can believe it. I'm looking forward to testing that one for you."

Mary grinned. "You're here more for the taste-testing than to provide much needed assistance, aren't you?"

"What gave me away?"

"Just as long as you know that I am putting you to work. Just as soon as you won't... drip all over my kitchen."

Having taken off his shirt, and placed it carefully next to his coat, David grinned. "I'm working on it. I'm looking forward to being taught by your lovely self."

Glancing up at him for just a second, Mary felt herself blush scarlet, and immediately looked back down at the mixture she was in the process of stirring. It was quite lovely, but also most unhelpful and incredibly dangerous, how very much attracted she was to him.

_Breathe! _Mika ordered quietly.

_HE HAS ARMS! _

_Yes, I figured he might. _

_It is not helpful when the voice in my head starts mocking me! You know what I meant. He has ARMS. How did I not know he has ARMS?! _

_Oh, you're gonna have to take another look if the arms are all you noticed, because there's a chest and... _

_NOT HELPING! _

"Mare?" David asked.

Snapping out of her internal conversation with Mika in time to concentrate on David, she blushed - thankfully, this time for reasons other than her attraction to him. "Yes? I'm sorry, I was zoning out, wasn't I?"

"Yeah," he responded, "And you and I both know I've seen you like that before, too often. You look like... like you go somewhere else, like you're not even in the room with me anymore. You were having another one of your deja vu moments?"

Mary sighed, and put the mixing bowl off to the side. "No. It's... it's not deja vu. Not anymore."

David's piercing blue eyes were locked with her own, and she had the thought that newly discovered arms - and how very impressive they were - or not, his eyes were without question his best feature (and the man had a hell of a lot of good features). She could see the concern, the acceptance, and maybe, just maybe, the love in his eyes.

It was enough to make her brave.

"Can we sit down and talk for a few minutes? I want to tell you what's really going on."

For a moment he simply looked at her, trying to read her the way he always did, and the surprise and hope on his face made her heart sing. This - she - really did matter to him.

"Okay."

* * *

><p>He'd shrugged his shirt back on, feeling that it would be too awkward for both of them to have a serious conversation while he was sitting there shirtless; though if he was being honest with himself, he'd very much enjoyed her initial reaction. She'd only glanced up at him for a second, but it had been long enough for her to blush bright red, and even more gratifying, she'd pulled her bottom lip in to bite.<p>

Quite pleased with himself, he'd just been getting ready to tease her, when he noticed that her attention was suddenly elsewhere, as she stared into space, stared at nothing - or at any rate, nothing he could see. She'd retreated inward, gone completely blank, and he'd seen that of her enough times to know what was happening, and know how little he liked it.

If she only knew how terrifying it was to see that kind of vacant expression on her face...

She'd snapped out of it quickly, which had been reassuring. And when she'd told him she was willing to talk to him about it, his heart had soared. She really did trust him, and after how much he'd screwed everything up in the past, her trust now was priceless to him.

"You told me a little while ago, when we went on that walk with Amy," he started carefully, "that you felt like at times you had thoughts or memories that weren't your own?"

"You remember that?" Mary asked, a surprised smile working its way onto her face.

"How in the world could I forget? It wasn't that long ago, and hey, it was the best morning I'd had in I don't even know how long."

"No, I mean, remember what I said. Almost exactly word for word."

David stroked a hand down her face gently. "I, uh, try and make it a point to remember everything you've said to me."

"That's so sweet of you."

"Bodes well for me that you think so," he murmured, smiling when he got the giggle he was going for. "Is it still that way for you? Thoughts, memories that don't make sense?"

"Yes," Mary said, considering. "And no. It's more then that, now. It keeps becoming... more. God, this is more difficult to explain than I'd imagined. It's going to sound insane."

"I don't care how it sounds, Mare. I care about what's real for you. You can tell me anything."

"It's not an occasional thing anymore, where I would sometimes have random thoughts that didn't feel like my own. It's become a full-out voice in my head, David, that I hear all of the time. And I... I can talk to it. Her. I do talk to her."

The bewildered worry on his face stung her, though she knew he did not mean it to, and she stood up in a rush to turn away in attempt to hide tears. "I know it's insane," she muttered.

"Hey," he said, sharper than he'd intended, grabbing one of Mary's arms to prevent her from walking away. "It's not," he snapped, looking her dead in the eye, forcing her to see the sincerity in his own. "It's a lot, but it's not insane, and you're going to have to stop talking about yourself like that because it's pissing me off. You're. Not. Insane. You hear me?"

"I have a voice in my head that I have regular conversations with, David! You may not think I'm insane, but everyone else in this town, Dr Hopper included, would send me straight off to be committed if they knew about it."

"Emma wouldn't. I won't. And as far as I'm concerned, that's all that matters!"

"What if you should?" Mary asked, fear blatant in her face.

"Don't even..."

"No, I'm serious, what if you should? What if I'm losing it, and it just keeps getting worse, and..."

"Is it real for you?"

"What?"

"You're throwing around phrases like 'insane' and 'losing it'. You just said a second ago that it keeps getting worse, but a couple minutes ago, when you were calm, when you weren't terrified of me judging you, you said it was 'more', not 'worse'. Whatever this is, you're not afraid of it, you're afraid of what I'll think of you for it, and I'm not alright with that. I don't ever want you fearing me, or my reaction to you. So all I really need to know is, is this real for you?"

For a moment, she simply stared at him, trembling. It should be impossible to believe, and yet there was no doubting his sincerity.

"It's real," she whispered. "It doesn't make sense, but it's real. _She's_ real to me."

"Then tell me more about her."

* * *

><p>She'd told him almost everything. It had come spilling out of her, and she realized that she had greatly underestimated how badly she needed to talk to someone who wasn't Mika about it all. Even Mika seemed to get that, as she suddenly recalled Mika telling her that she could talk to David and Emma about her from the first time they'd actually communicated.<p>

She could feel Mika now, observing, quietly but comfortably. She really never did have anything to fear of David.

He'd followed along with her description of the progression more than she'd expected him to. From mere feeling, to phantom thought and memory. From that, to voice in head that she could converse with with constantly increasing regularity and ease.

He'd understood it, and he'd done so calmly, interjecting the occasional question as she spoke, but otherwise just listening.

He hadn't let go of her hand the whole time.

The man, she figured, simply had a gift for making her feel safe.

"The one thing I don't understand though... how or why is it that things suddenly progressed so much? You said you've had the 'feel' of her your whole life, why did that suddenly turn to all of this?" David asked.

Her answering blush caught him off guard.

"You," she replied in a whisper so quiet he barely caught it.

Half smiling, he eyed her carefully. "You're going to have to clarify that for me. Don't go playing shy now."

"Ahhh," she sighed, covering her face with her free hand. "I really didn't want to go into this part."

"Too late," he murmured, grabbing her hand back so he could see her. "We're into it now. What about me?"

"My spending more time with you, falling for you... it made her stronger somehow. The voice, she says that there's a part of you... or at least, she hopes there is... oh God, I don't want to sound ridiculous, don't want you to..."

"Tell me."

"She's part of me, right? And she says... she says that there's a part of you... that you have something similar?"

"I'm not sure..."

Talking quickly, half laughing, Mary shook her head. "I know it doesn't make any sense. That's the part of it I never really got either. But she thinks, or hopes, anyway, that somewhere in you, there's a part of you... like she's part of me."

He looked as confused as she'd ever seen him, even compared with how he'd been when he'd first woken up from the coma. But he wasn't laughing at her, wasn't denying it. It was like he was trying to work something out in his mind that he couldn't quite make sense of.

"I don't think I've experienced anything like what you're saying," he murmured.

"I know... don't worry about it, it was just a thought she..."

"You said she _hopes_ that I've got this part of me?"

"The part of you that she thinks is in you somewhere... she's in love with it."

"_What_?"

"I know, it's ridiculous. I was insulted too, when she told me that she and... your part... were the reason why we were so drawn together before we even knew each other, because we could feel them, and how much they loved each other, and it made it impossible for us to stay away from each other..."

He interrupted just as something occurred to him. "I asked you if we knew each other, before my accident."

He could see the moment the same memory occurred to her.

"I... yes, but that doesn't mean..."

"You'd had one of your moments, when you had one of her memories? Me - or someone like me - telling you that I'd find you. And for a second there, I remembered something too, something that didn't make any sense. I lost the memory as quickly as it came, but I turned to you and asked..."

"If I was sure it had never happened. Before your accident," she murmured, comprehension dawning on her face.

"You remember everything I've ever said to you just as well as I remember what you've said to me," he marveled.

"Of course... but I don't know what all of this means, David."

"The memory that you had that day was hers. And if I had it too... that must mean that... it was his."

"David, you don't think...?"

The half smile she'd come to so adore appeared on his face so fast she nearly lost her breath.

"Sounds like your girl's got a point," he laughed. "Somewhere in me, I've got what you've got."

Somehow, Mary's gape made his grin spread wider.

"Told you you weren't insane, baby."

* * *

><p>She'd somehow ended up sitting in his lap, his arms wrapped around her, her free hand stroking up and down his arm in an absentminded and utterly soothing gesture.<p>

"Are you really alright?" she murmured.

"I'm just fine, Mare. We've finally made something make sense... in a completely nonsensical way, but..."

For a moment, they simply laughed together.

"So when exactly did you start actually communicating with her?" he asked, curious.

"When Kathryn came to speak to me in my classroom, and told me what she'd done. I got angry and lost control, and so did Mika..."

"Mika?"

"It's the name we came up with for me to have something to call her."

"Was that not one of the names Henry was suggesting for Laci?"

Mary laughed. "Yeah... she, she liked it. Anyway, we both lost our tempers, lost control, and when Kathryn said that you're her husband... well Mika kind of took over my body for a second and..."

"Wait, wait, wait. You didn't mention _that_ as a possibility!"

"Well, that's because I'm telling you now. And it's okay, I worked it out with her. It was because our emotions got too out of control at the same time, and we're not going to let that happen again."

David simply raised an eyebrow at her.

"Anyway, Mika was able to take over, and she kind of yelled at Kathryn that you're hers... or mine... or ours... there's a lot of ambivalence on such matters when there's two of us in one head, but you get the point. What was said is 'He is mine', only a lot louder, and a lot angrier. And I knew I hadn't said that, and so I kind of freaked out and ran, and ever since then, I've been able to hear and talk to Mika."

"Okay. So it's all my fault then?" he questioned teasingly.

Mary giggled. "If you want to look at it that way, be my guest."

Turning her around to face him, David looked at her, and tilted his head, considering. "So am I yours?"

He was completely positive that he'd never get tired of being the reason she blushed like that.

She bit her lip, looked down, then back at him with a coy smile. "Mika seems to think so."

"Mmm," he hummed. "And you?"

Her smile changed, turned shy, but no less real. "I'd like to believe it."

"Well," he commented, bending towards her, "Mika's getting into the habit of being right, isn't she?"

When he kissed her, they were both smiling, both overcome with joy.

* * *

><p>They'd made their way back into the kitchen, finally, and Mary had quickly finished with the Rocky Road bars, before beginning on his first task  lesson, chocolate chip cookies. He'd shot her a withering look when she'd made the announcement, insulted.

"Do you think, Ms Blanchard, that I am incapable of anything more complicated than the most basic of baked goods?"

"Did you, or did you not, tell me that you'd never baked anything before?"

"Well, no, but give me more of a challenge than..."

"No buts! No challenges! We start with the basics, and that is chocolate chip cookies. Emma would have had the same starting point. If it makes you feel better, my recipe is different than the common plain old boring recipe."

"What, extra chocolate chips?"

Mary's glare was made most ineffective by the simultaneous smirk she could not hide.

"No! ... Well, yes. But the main difference is, we're going to use a vanilla pudding mix in the recipe."

"How does that work?"

"Dunno. But it makes damn good cookies. Now measure out a half cup of sugar."

"Yes ma'am."

They worked side-by-side for a few minutes, Mary instructing him, and she was mostly successful in hiding her smile whenever he proudly dumped another perfectly measured cup of ingredients into the mixing bowl.

They had moved on to scooping the cookies out onto a baking tray, when something suddenly dawned on David.

"Mare? You said that Mika goes by Mika because she liked the name when Henry suggested it."

"Yes?"

"So she... is aware of what happens around you?"

"Yes. She watches, pays attention. Sometimes she provides commentary on what's going on, which you guys have occasionally noticed, when I get distracted."

"Is she paying attention now?"

Mary nodded, not sure where David was going with this. "More than usual, actually. She knows this conversation was important. She actually encouraged me to tell you about her a long time ago. She knew that she had no reason to fear you."

"Smart girl."

_Woman. _

Mary grinned, laughter shining in her eyes. "She says woman."

"She's talking to you now?!"

"Not really. She's been really quiet this whole time. Remember, you've always been able to tell when she's talking to me, or we're talking to each other. I either get distracted, because my attention is split between her and you, or I go blank completely, because I'm concentrating on what she's saying to me, and lose track of what's happening around me. That hasn't happened since I started telling you about all of this. Which I think is by design. Mika's really good, really careful about knowing when to speak up and when not to. It's only when her emotions go extreme, and I feel the pain of them, that I have a really hard time, but she works on controlling that. She knew this was important, so she stayed quiet."

"She matters to you."

Mary smiled ruefully. "Yeah, she really does. I hadn't seen that part coming, but I care about her. I want to help her, as much as I can."

"Can I talk to her for a minute?"

Whatever Mary had expected, it wasn't that, and she felt Mika go frozen with shock as well. "What?" she breathed.

"I just want to try... but if you're not comfortable with it..."

"No, it's fine with me. I don't know why I didn't think of that. Don't know how it'll work... but she'll hear you. And I'll be able to tell you anything she says."

"Okay," David muttered, feeling awkward. He stared into Mary's eyes, trying to get past the idea of Mary, which seemed just about impossible, given how consumed he was by her. Shuffling where he stood, he gave up on the idea of trying not to see Mary, and just tried to find Mika.

"Mika?" he murmured. "I'm sorry to bug you, I know you're only used to speaking with Mary."

_Mary, I can't... _

Feeling Mika shake, Mary felt deep concern, and tried at once to calm her. _It's okay. You know David. He understands, he just... wants to understand more. He'll never hurt us, you know that. _

David continued, "And Mare told me how caught up you are in... whatever all of this is, so I know you can't tell us much, but Mika, if you can tell me anything about who you think... who you _know_ is in me..."

_Stop. Mare, Mare, please make him stop it, I can't handle... _Mika panicked, and Mary felt the resulting pain in her head with alarm.

"David," Mary exclaimed, "please, she can't handle it, please stop."

Listening, and complying immediately, David looked to Mary, reaching out to touch her face. "Are you alright?" he asked, voice rough with concern. "Is she? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have tried that..."

_Tell him it's okay, _Mika gasped. _I just couldn't. Not with him talking right to me, it's too hard, I didn't expect... _

"I'm okay," Mary replied. "And she is too, or will be. I think it was just too hard for her to have you talking to her, when she misses... her part of you so freaking much."

David winced. "Right. I'm an idiot..."

"No!" Mary responded. "That was my fault. This is all new to you, you don't know her. I do. I should have known that was a bad idea."

"Can you just tell her I'm sorry?"

"She heard you," Mary smiled through tears. "She knows, and she's grateful."

Stroking a hand down Mary's face, he took a deep breath. "Can we get back to your baking now? I think we've had as much emotional upheaval today as we need."

"I'd like that."

* * *

><p>They worked their way through another four recipes after the chocolate chip cookies; steadily getting more complicated. David had teased her the entire time, wondering at exactly where she was planning on putting it all.<p>

She'd teased right back that with the rate he was sampling everything, she'd get rid of a not unreasonable percentage of the treats just by feeding him then and there.

She hadn't been expecting it, so when he tossed the handful of flour at her, the sheer shock on her powder covered face was comical, and he had to throw his head back and laugh, harder than she'd ever heard of him.

"I'm sorry," he said, still chuckling, as he grabbed for a paper towel. "Let's get you cleaned up..."

Mary's aim was perfect. The cocoa powder she threw landed him flat in the face, he was worse off than she was. And as David had just experienced, the disbelief written all over his face was enough to have Mary bend over and howl with laughter.

"Oh, you are in for it now," David threatened, laughing again.

"No, no, no!" Mary shouted, still mid giggle, just as David hit her with a double barreled attack, a handful each of sugar and his trusty flour. Desperate to counteract quickly, Mary simply grabbed the box of baking soda and shook it towards him, which - as the damn box was wont to do - resulted in a cloud of power that flat out covered him.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, eying each other up, each armed - Mary still holding the baking soda, David having grabbed the brown sugar - just in case of another enemy attack.

"We're even," Mary commented, voice still shaking with leftover laughter. "We've each had two attacks."

"We're even," he agreed.

"Thing is, I'm not interested in even," he announced quickly, making a run to go and grab her, even as she squealed and shook the baking soda at him, covering him further. He'd got her in a good grip though, and cheerfully emptied what was left of the bag of brown sugar - he'd buy her a new one - on top of her head.

As the remnants of her ingredients got tossed around her kitchen, as laughter and screams echoed throughout it, Mary had the thought that it was a damn good thing that they'd already gotten everything she wanted to make that day done.

Though, when they'd both finally found themselves unarmed - having unspokenly agreed that the eggs were off limits - and they'd both nearly collapsed laughing, right into each other's arms, and the look on his face had changed, and he was kissing her, and they'd somehow ended up tangled up on the floor, her sprawled on top of him... well, actual thoughts just went straight out of the realm of reasonable possibility.

* * *

><p>She'd gone to take a shower, to clean off the cupcake she looked like she'd just been baked into, while he had simply wiped off his face as best as possible, then grabbed Amy to take her outside. He'd let the rain do much of the job of cleaning him up, give Amy the chance to do her business after an afternoon spent inside, and he'd go to his truck and grab the change of clothes he'd kept in there ever since he'd started working at the shelter. Win, win, win.<p>

Plus, he thought, as he stepped outside into the cold, drenching rain, he'd give himself the chance to cool off.

Win.

He didn't really know what he'd been thinking, except for the fact that he knew he hadn't been thinking. They'd ended up so tangled up, lips and hands everywhere, and he'd wanted, more than he'd known was humanly possible. He'd been tempted, so damn tempted, to just take her, there on her kitchen floor. It was with a sigh of relief that he remembered the moment that the capacity for rational thought broke back through the frenzied emotion for both of them, almost at the exact same time, and they'd backed off, calmed down, felt the heat, the fire, the burn, cool to a wonderful warmth. They'd simply lay there together for a few moments, catching their breath, his arms still around her as he kissed the top of her head, over and over again.

She deserved better than for their first time together to be quick on the kitchen floor. Deserved better than for it to happen before he'd gotten his divorce finalized. He wanted better for her, and he was glad they'd both found their heads before they'd messed that up.

But hell, he still wanted, and the ice cold rain pelting him in the face felt like a soothing balm.

Amy didn't seem so impressed, though, and as she glared at him while barking sharply three times, he felt he could almost read her mind.

_I'm done, it's freezing, so hurry it up, Human. _

He was still laughing as he pulled the bag with the change of clothes out of his truck.

* * *

><p>Mary was just making her way back into the kitchen, having quickly showered, towel dried her hair - short hairstyle forever proving to be convenient - and changed, when David came back into the apartment with Amy. Biting her lip at how completely adorable he looked, soaking wet, and only slightly cleaner, she couldn't help but laugh.<p>

"I look like a drowned rat, don't I?" David grinned sheepishly. "Perhaps one that's spent time digging around in a baking cupboard?"

"Go take a shower, David," she commanded fondly. "It'll warm you up, and get you something approaching clean again."

"Thank you," he murmured, heading in the direction of her bathroom.

"It's not a problem," she replied with a grin. "It'll give me a chance to start cleaning up the mess you made in here."

"I made?"

"Mmhmm."

"Baby, you are just as responsible for that mess as I am."

"Yes, well, you started it."

"Ah, so it's all my fault then. I remember your forays into logic, Ms Blanchard."

"Very glad to hear the lesson sunk in, Mr Nolan."

He chuckled as he disappeared into the bathroom, while Mary was still grinning as she dug out some cleaning supplies.

She'd been afraid for a second that what had happened, or almost happened, between them would have made things awkward between them, but she was happy to find that nothing of the sort had happened. They were as close, and as comfortable around each other as ever, and it was as much a reassurance as it was a delight.

She'd never imagined she could have the kind of relationship with a man that she had with David, so trusting, so understanding. There was something extraordinary about them, she could feel it.

It made her giddy, and so freaking grateful.

He shut the shower off sooner than she'd expected, and he made his way out of the bathroom just a couple short minutes after that, clean and changed into jeans and a t-shirt.

It occurred to her that it afforded her lots of lovely opportunity to admire those arms of his, and she had to turn away to hide her smile.

"That was fast," Mary commented blandly, focusing all of her attention on a particular stubborn spot of sugar on the counter.

"Yeah, well I figured that it would be a much nicer use of my time to come out here and be with you."

"Smooth," Mary replied, looking up with a teasing grin.

He laughed even as he shook his head at her, and he had opened his mouth to respond, when they heard Emma making her way into the apartment.

"My God, Mare," the blonde announced, "The whole building smells like Mrs Claus's freaking bake shop. How much did you make and how does it smell so damn..." she froze as she turned to stare at the kitchen, and the two people standing in it. "What the hell? Is this kind of mess normal... for baking?"

"Nope!" Mary announced, cheerfully. "We had... a slight incident."

David snorted, and she shot him a look.

"All's good though, and..." she stopped as she finally took a good look at Emma, who not only was completely drenched, but was carrying several bags and a tray of drinks.

"Do you want me to take something, Em?"

"Oh, yeah," Emma said, looking down at everything she was attempting to balance sheepishly. "Well, I figured that you would have been baking all day, and so I thought maybe I'd take care of dinner. And then I remembered that I'm hopeless in the kitchen and that's why I was going to have you teach me something today. So I decided, we're having a weekend of uncaring face stuffing anyway, so I stopped at Granny's on my way home, and picked up double bacon cheeseburgers for dinner."

David went and grabbed the drinks and bags of food from his friend before everything ended up on the floor. "Well, I will take off then, leave you ladies to your dinner, and..." he stopped, staring confusedly at the drink tray he held himself. "You got three drinks?"

Emma flashed him a grin as she worked on shrugging off her soaked rain gear. "I ran into one of the women you work with at the shelter - Iris? - on my way back from the station. She recognized me as one of your friends, and she mentioned that you've got weekends off now." Her grin took on its frequent teasing edge. "Convenient, no?" she commented, lightly, side-eying her schoolteacher roommate.

She damn near danced where she stood as David flushed slightly, and dawning comprehension appeared on Mary's face. Man, it was almost too easy to mock these two. Almost. But not quite, because it was still damn fun to.

"Anyway," she drawled, "once I knew that you had today off, I figured the odds that you were anywhere but here were pretty much nonexistent, so I grabbed you dinner too."

"You didn't have to do that, Em..."

"Course I did," Emma replied. "I wasn't very well going to have Mary and I sit here and eat in front of you. And you ain't going anywhere, Nolan."

"I'm sorry?"

"That awful storm seems to be coming in early, there've been severe storm warning bulletins coming over the radio for the last hour and a half, and it's already getting really bad out there. The wind has picked up, and I'm sure you've heard the rain. I'm not letting you go anywhere in it, and I know Mary's on my side on this one. You're staying with us tonight. I stopped at the pharmacy, grabbed a toothbrush and some other stuff for you, so you've got no excuse. Now, the two of you, sit down, eat. I'm going to go upstairs and change into something dry and warm, and when I get back down here, you're going to explain to me what exactly happened to that kitchen."

"Oh," she called, as she started making her way upstairs. "And I'll be down in five, and if the onion rings are gone by the time I'm back, I'm taking both of you out. Fair warning."

Mary and David stood frozen staring at each other, both feeling the effects of a tornado that had nothing to do with the storm outside.

"You know, I think I like her!" David proclaimed, to Mary's laughter as they both finally walked forward to set up the dining table.

* * *

><p>"You walked in just in time to see Mr Gold beating the crap out of the guy?"<p>

"Yep," Emma responded, covering a french fry in ketchup. "It was the weirdest thing I'd ever seen. First off, had no clue that he was even capable of something like that. Not mentally - because I don't even want to know what that guy's capable of there - but physically. He's always hobbling everywhere with that cane, and to see him suddenly... I don't know, there's some rage there. Which was the weirdest thing, he was screaming at the guy, something about a girl... But once I stopped him, he shut right up. Wouldn't say a word, about the girl, about anything. Obviously he knows his rights. Anyway, I put him in one of the cells for the night, but I have no doubt he'll have figured out a way to get himself out of the mess by morning. I just wish I knew what it was about... either of you have an idea?"

Mary shook her head. "He's never been connected with anyone, family or romantically, as long as I've known of him. I mean, he owns most of the town, so he's got links to everybody, but not real bonds."

David shrugged. "I'd know less than you guys would. But it's good to know not to go pissing my divorce lawyer off."

Mary choked on her drink, while Emma swallowed the french fry she'd just popped in her mouth whole.

"You... you're really divorcing Kathryn?" Mary asked.

"He's a lawyer?! Since when?" Emma demanded at the exact same time.

Glancing back and forth between them with a half smile, he turned to answer Mary first, to a sarcastic eye roll from Emma that they both studiously ignored.

"Of course I am, Mare. I told you I would. I'm done trying to fix something that can't be fixed, and I'm done with trying to stay away from you... not that I was any good at that to begin with. I'm doing this right, and so I went to see Gold at the beginning of the week to begin filing for divorce. I think Kathryn should be served with the papers soon. I want this over with as quickly as possible. And Em," he said, turning his attention to the other woman, "I'd imagine he's been a lawyer for awhile. There's some qualifications needed, last I checked."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Mature, Swan," he said, but the laughter in his voice took the sting out of the scold. "I was just as surprised as you were when I looked law up in the phonebook, and he was the only one listed. He's definitely a strange man, kind of weirds me out a little bit... something about him... but I want this done, and he's the only one who can help me with it."

"Just be careful around him, okay?" Mary asked, as Emma nodded in agreement.

"I will. Promise."

"Well alright then," Emma announced, "I am going to go poke through the lovely treats you spent all day making..."

"I helped!" David interjected proudly.

"Of course you did. Anyway, I'm gonna go see what I want to sample for dessert."

Turning back to Mary with a smile, David grabbed her hand, holding it in his own. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you when I'd filed for divorce... I just thought you knew. When I told you I was going to end my marriage, I meant it."

"I know," Mary replied. "I just didn't realize you meant so quickly... but don't get me wrong... I shouldn't say this, but I'm glad for it."

He reached out to stroke her face. "You can say it. Because I'm glad for it too."

"What the hell am I stepping in?!" Emma demanded from the kitchen, breaking up the moment. "What is all over this floor? I let you guys distract me with my day during dinner, but seriously... What did you two DO?!"

"We baked many things," David responded, deadpan, as Mary snorted and hid her face in his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, we'll clean it up."

"Seriously? I'm amazed anything actually got made, what with the amount of... baking powdery stuff everywhere. How does this even happen?"

"Very carefully."

"Come again?"

"You have no idea how hard it is to not let flour leave the kitchen when you're throwing it at someone," David cheerfully explained, to Mary's laughter.

Finally understanding, Emma rolled her eyes, and capably hid her smile behind a scoff. "The two of you are eight year olds. Clean this up!"

"Well, that was the plan..."

* * *

><p>Across town, sitting in a darkened house, Abigail stared at the divorce papers she'd just been served with. Mr Gold - Rumplestilskin (and Gods, the imp still gave her the creeps) - had presented them to her with a cheerfulness he hadn't even attempted to hide, even as he proclaimed his apologies.<p>

She didn't have a clue what to do now. And that was terrifying. Her friends had no idea the danger they were putting themselves in. She was the only one, the only freaking one, and she had no idea what to do now.

She wondered if she'd ever felt quite so lonely.

* * *

><p>With David tackling mopping the floors, leaving Mary to work magic on scrubbing down the counters, the kitchen was returned to its formerly spotless status surprisingly quickly, impressing even Emma.<p>

They sat around talking about nothing and everything for hours, though voices in heads and phantom memories were not touched on. David and Mary had come to the agreement that, while they both wanted to let Emma know what was going on with them, they both knew Emma to be a skeptic of all skeptics, and they wanted to understand more, before they tried to explain to her. No use frightening their friend with something she could not possibly comprehend, until they had more information to give her.

It went without notice, when Mary reclined on the couch she sat on next to David, to lean back against him, and his arm immediately wrapped around her. The gestures seemed as natural as breathing to them now, even for Emma, who had long past accepted how well they fit together.

Still though, when the trio started yawning, and Mary asked Emma if she could grab the spare blanket and pillow to set up on the couch for David before heading upstairs, Emma couldn't help but scoff.

"So he can make his way into your bed five minutes later?"

She'd never seen two faces turn quite so red at the same time before, and she memorized the moment with delight.

"Em... I... you... no... what?!" Mary spluttered, trying to save face.

"You do rock the baffled innocent look well when you're caught off guard, Mare. I'll have you know that on the rare occasion, I do actually wake up before you do. Early police business to attend to and all. Sometimes I see things when I do."

David closed his eyes, winced, suddenly vaguely recalling the sound of a door closing that wonderful morning he'd woken up with Mary in his arms. "Crap," he muttered.

"Hey, doesn't bother me," Emma announced cheerfully. "Just keep the clothes on for now, and all's good!"

If possible, her friends' faces turned redder as they both gaped at her.

She damn near bounced up the stairs. "Good night, kiddies!" she called behind her.

Laci was lying on her bed when she reached her room, and Emma smiled in delighted satisfaction at the cat.

"So guess what, cutie. Sometimes crap days work out, when they end that fun!"

* * *

><p>Mary turned back to look at David, mortified, though relieved by the slight hint of amusement she saw breaking through his embarrassment. Deciding to work with that, she proclaimed only half kiddingly, "Don't worry, I'm kicking her ass out first thing tomorrow."<p>

David was laughing as he wrapped his arms around her.

"So," she started, peeking up at him sassily. "Weekends off, huh?"

Officially deciding he had nothing to be embarrassed for, he grinned down at her. "Yep. Liked the idea of the thing."

"You know I, being a schoolteacher, also have weekends off."

"Well, now, what a pleasant coincidence that is."

"Coincidence?" she questioned, eyebrow raised, as she angled her head towards his.

"Totally," he concurred, closing the remaining distance between them, and putting his lips to hers.

Though the storm ravaged outside that night, the couple slept as soundly as they ever had, wrapped around each other. Warm, cozy and safe in each other's arms, it was easy enough to feel as though nothing could ever come between them.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: *wipes brow* So, we've got a lot happening here, eh? Big huge monster chapter, with a whole lot happening. This chapter was filled with progress for the story, which means things are getting complicated, real soon. (You guys didn't think things would stay this lovely and perfect and fluffy forever, right? This is Once we're talking about!). But for now - and maybe a tiny bit longer, depending on how the next couple of chapters break down - things are pretty good, which made for a hell of a fun chapter to write. <strong>

**Of course, big huge monster chapter is going to get a big huge monster author's note to follow up, to let you guys in on a few inside jokes with, well, me. _One of the reasons I had so much fun with this chapter was the little hints of my own fun I was able to throw into it. Emma calling Laci furball at the beginning of the chapter, is me stealing my own line. I affectionally call my cat furball all the time, and when I'm having a bad day, I'll tell her that she's got life easy as a cat. It just seemed like something Emma would say. Mary's commentary on books? Mine too. Loved To Kill a Mockingbird (though I didn't think I would), but did not enjoy Gatsby. The recipes mentioned (except for the lemon donuts, which is a recipe I've yet to try) are some of my favourites - Rocky Road bars are freaking fantastic (gooey though they are), and using a vanilla pudding mix in chocolate chip cookies actually does result in wonderful batches of cookies every time. And my favourite of all, Mary's mini heart attack about David's arms? Was me working in my reaction when I first saw the set photos from next episode, with Charming, Henry, and Red in the mine. Was I the only one who didn't know Josh had arms like that?! Cannot WAIT for tomorrow. _**

**_As well, the title of this chapter is me kind of poking fun at myself, in a rather effective for the chapter kind of way. I am a HUGE U2 fan, and in one of their songs - The Fly - there is a lyric that goes, "They say a secret is something you tell one another person / So I'm telling you, child", but the way Bono sings 'child', I always thought it was 'shine on', until I came across the actual lyrics. SO, with the main part of the plot of this chapter being Mary finally telling David her secret, I thought it worked. _**

**_Now, Q&A time, with this question from GinnyArias: _**

Why would Kathryn/Abigail want David back if she knows he is meant for Mary/Snow? Or was she just saying that to Regina so she wouldn't do anything to the couple?

**_Remember, Abigail is the only one that's not cursed, and so she's the only one who knows what Regina's done, what she's capable of, and what kind of hatred she has for Snow. Though Snow and James never did tell Abigail everything, she knows enough to know that revenge on Snow is what caused Regina to enact the curse, and thus she knows that if Regina has the slightest idea that Snow is going to get her happy ending after everything, both Mary and David would be in incredible danger. As far as Abigail's concerned, the only way to keep her friends safe is to keep playing Kathryn, and try to hold onto David. Abigail's motivations are reasonably pure, but as we saw in the 'Abigail' chapter, her actions are often misguided, and she runs the risk of causing more trouble than she fixes. _**

**_Keep letting me know if there are any questions, everybody, because it really does help me. Not only so that I can answer them clearly in the author's notes, but I also try and clarify the questions within the actual chapters whenever it fits with the story. _**

**_Reviews always welcome/cherished/squealed over. I don't think I say often enough how much I enjoy reading what you guys have to say. My lovely fellow ONCE-ers, you make me smile! _**

**_Thanks, as always, for reading. _**


	15. To Be Good

**_Author's Note: This story's word count stood at just over 67,000 words when I started writing this chapter. By the time I was ready to post, it was well over 80,000. This is by far the biggest chapter so far, in more ways then one. In other words? It's go time for Freedom Love. _  
><strong>

**_I hope you enjoy what is to come, as much as I am enjoying writing it. _**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen: To Be Good<strong>

_She was talking to someone she could not see, but that did not matter. She was on the side of good, and that did. She was a friend. And on this most important issue, they were in full agreement. _

"_Whatever it takes," she told the friend. "I don't care what I have to do, what I have to sacrifice. We save him. We keep him safe. He matters more than anything." _

"_We will find him," the friend agreed. "We will always find him." _

"_And when it comes down to it," she started, turning to the ornate mirror in the corner of the room. _

"_We will die for him," the reflection finished. _

Mary Margaret woke up screaming.

"Mare, Mare, it's okay, it's alright, you're safe," David murmured to her, his attempt to keep his voice calm and soothing not disguising the concern in it.

She could barely hear him. It was very as much as though he was speaking to her from somewhere very far away, barely breaking through the wall of noise that surrounded her.

The panic David had felt to startle awake to the sound of the woman he loved screaming in terror only continued to increase the longer she screamed. He'd seen her unresponsive more times than he cared to count, but he'd never seen her like this.

The sound of footsteps pounding the stairs as Emma came running down them was almost entirely drowned out by Mary's screams, but he heard just enough to glance over at Emma desperately.

"Jesus, what the hell happened?!" his bleary-eyed friend demanded.

"Nightmare. I think. She hasn't said anything yet, I'm not sure she's conscious, she's not responding to me..."

"Get out of my way," Emma commanded, nearly shoving David as she jumped up on to the foot of Mary's bed, crawled over to her prone friend, and slapped her across the face with all her strength.

Mary's screams stopped abruptly.

"What the hell was that?!" David snapped, as Mary collapsed against him, her sobs muffled by his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing one hand soothingly up and down her arm, even as he glared at Emma.

"Chalk it up to prior experience," Emma replied, her stare far cooler than David was used to. He didn't like it at all. Pained, he looked down for a moment, unsure of why it should hurt so much that Emma was angry with him, especially as he knew he deserved it. Regardless of the stress of the situation, he already regretted raising his voice with his friend.

Mary, however, was and had to be his priority, and the idea that Mary had night terrors that she and Emma hadn't told him about hurt deeply. "She's been like this before?" he asked.

Hearing the agony in his voice and immediately understanding the reason for it, Emma let her guard back down. "No, David, of course not. Mary would have told you... and if she hadn't, I would have. We'd never keep something like this from you, especially not when you could have helped. You calm her like nothing else does."

"Then what was that?"

"Calming people has never been my strong suit. You know how she goes blank at times? I got her to snap out of it once by slapping her. Figured it was worth a shot again."

"I can't say I love your method," Mary spoke up, her voice rough and weak from screaming, "but there's no denying it's effective, is there?"

"Mary," David started and finished, relief leaving him at a loss for words.

"Hey Mare," Emma murmured, her smile a shaky, weak impression of her usual toothy grin. "You gonna tell us what happened there?"

Rubbing at her face with one hand, the other hand fisted around David's shirt sleeve like a lifeline, Mary sighed. "Just a terribly frightening dream, I think."

"I've had bad dreams. They've never made me scream like that, for that long," Emma countered.

A bit more strength in her voice, Mary attempted to explain. "I know that must have been strange for you. I, uh, don't think I was fully conscious. I could hear you two, only barely, but it felt as though.. it was as though I was caught in a windstorm, and you guys were speaking to me from just outside it. I was still trapped in the dream, and you two weren't really breaking through. Until you slapped me."

"Makes sense," Emma conceded. "So what happened in the dream? What scared you that much?"

Mary bit her lip. "Um... I, uh, don't really..."

"Don't tell me you don't remember. The dream, the fear of it is in your eyes. You're still half caught in it. Tell us, Mare, talking about it will help."

Mary looked at David, helpless, and as ever, he was able to read her - the wariness in her eyes, and the potential reason for it - easily, and his instinct to protect her immediately kicked in.

"Come on, Em," David chided. "Who wants to talk about something that frightened them? Give her a few minutes. Hell, it's three in the morning. Mare's exhausted, we're all exhausted, and we've all got work in a few hours. Why don't we all go back to bed?"

"I don't know if that's the best..."

"I'm here," David interrupted, and his voice, though gentle, was as firm - almost commanding - as either woman had ever heard it. "Mary knows she's safe now, and I'll be with her. We can talk more at dinner, or even breakfast if we're all up at the same time. But right now, it's going to do none of us any good to stand around talking about it when we're all dead on our feet."

"Mare?" Emma asked.

"I really am okay now, promise. David's right. I just want to lie back down and dream about something pleasant. We need to get back to sleep, or today's going to be especially awful for all of us, even for a Monday."

Eying them both, Emma could not help but get the feeling that there was something her friends were not telling her, but unable to imagine what it could be, she decided to let it go for now. Late night interrogations never did go well anyway.

However, worry for Mary, the bone deep _need_ for her to always be alright that she'd never completely understood held true, and she eyed the couch consideringly. "Maybe I should..."

"You're not going to get any sleep on that couch, Emma," Mary gently pointed out. "Go on upstairs."

"I need you to be alright more than I need a couple extra hours of sleep," Emma countered, rubbing at her face, her eyes, trying to will the fatigue out of them.

"I think that's why you guys keep me around," David commented, injecting a lighter note into his voice with the quip. "I'm going to make sure she's fine. And Em, if anything happened, you know I'd wake you."

"Of course, I know that, it's just..."

"I've got her, Em."

It was impossible to doubt the sincerity in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Emma shook her head and half smiled. "Okay. I know when I've been told." She reached out and pulled her roommate into an embrace, the tightness of which surprised them both. "You get some sleep, alright?" Emma ordered, voice only slightly shaky.

"Yes ma'am."

"And you," Emma turned to David, a steely edge in her eyes. "You take care of her."

"I will. Always."

Emma rolled her eyes teasingly. "Charming as ever, Nolan."

Since David had woken up from his coma, he'd occasionally had moments where certain things pulled at his memory, as though there was something there, something meaningful. He'd never felt it quite so strongly as with those words from Emma, and he wondered at what could possibly be triggering there.

Even Emma seemed slightly embarrassed, as if she'd just realized something about what she'd said, which made little sense. There was nothing wrong with her words.

But hell, he was exhausted, and probably seeing things that weren't there. And Mary was blushing, and giggling, and looking so much better than she had just a few short minutes ago, that relief pushed any thoughts of phantom and seemingly forever just barely out of reach memories clear out of his mind.

He watched as Mary only barely stifled a yawn in attempt to hide how desperately sleepy she really was, and felt affection for her consume him. As he glanced over, even Emma, now standing at the bottom of the staircase, couldn't seem to help but grin. They shared a smile for a moment, before David winked at her. Emma's smile changed, became closed-mouthed, but all the more sincere for it, and she nodded at him once, before turning away up the stairs.

He had to catch his breath at the moment, at what had been exchanged. There was an absolute trust between them, he could feel it, and he knew instinctively that Emma's trust was one of the most valuable things he'd ever be given.

Emma trusted him to take care of her best friend.

He had no intention of letting her down.

* * *

><p>Her head rested on David's chest, his free arm wrapped around her. She was only focused on breathing. Not her own, but his. Steady and safe. She only had to move her head an inch or so, in order to clearly hear his heart beat. Consistent, regular.<p>

Healthy. Alive. There, with her.

She was still clutching at him as though he might vanish into thin air if she didn't keep a good tight hold on him.

He was there.

He had lit a candle for her, though he'd found himself unable to really explain why he did so. It just felt right, he had told her, felt like it would help with the nightmares. Perhaps there was something soothing to be found in the flickering light, blanketing the darkness. Either way, he figured, it was worth a shot. Anything to attempt to keep the bad dreams away, anything to help her sleep. Anything for her.

She sighed, heavy and deep, but there was a ease to it that had David reaching to kiss the top of her head.

"Feeling calmer now?" he murmured.

"Mmm," she hummed. "Being here with you is helping. As is the candle, somehow. You were right, it just feels right, feels like it should be there. Like it will chase away the dreams, or catch them. Thank you."

"Anytime, baby. Sleep now."

"I still don't know if I want to," Mary admitted. "I think I'll be alright for work just by lying here with you, resting. I shouldn't be too tired."

"You're exhausted," David argued, "I can see it in your face. Even if you were completely relaxed for the next few hours, it wouldn't be enough to get you through your crazy day. You need real sleep."

Mary pouted at him, meaning to make him laugh, but knowing her as well as he did, he saw the real fear behind it.

Sighing, David sat upright, pulling Mary up with him. Flipping her around so he could look her in the eye, he stroked a hand down her face. "You ready to talk about it?"

Forcing out a chuckle, Mary rolled her eyes. "What happened to waiting to talk about it?" she asked with a smile, so he'd know she wasn't really upset.

"That was for Em's benefit. I saw the look in your eyes when she was asking you. You weren't afraid of talking about the dream in of itself, you were just wary of telling _her_ about it."

Mary couldn't help but snort. "I can't decide whether you being able to read me like a book that's just there for your perusal is a really great thing, or a pain in my ass."

Delivering her the half smile that never failed to make her heart flip, David retorted, "Well, considering we've pretty much established that you can read me the same way, and that we can therefore communicate without needing to actually speak, which has already proven to be quite convenient, I'm going to go with really great thing."

"Oh, well then. If that's your vote..."

"It is."

"Then it'll be mine too. You were covering for me then? You knew I was uncomfortable, and jumped in to help me out with Emma?"

"Got to have your back, don't I?"

Smiling shyly, Mary bit her lip. "I appreciate it all the same."

Placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, he then pulled back and eyed her carefully. "So, do you want to tell me about the dream?" He glanced up at the ceiling, as though trying to will himself X-Ray vision in order to see through it, and thus see if Emma was in fact asleep. Efforts unsuccessful, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "It had something to do with Mika? And that's why you didn't want Emma to know?"

"I think it was Mika. That's the only thing that makes sense, anyway, but it was just... I've never had a dream like that before."

"Has she said anything about it?"

Mary froze at the question, surprised to have not thought of, or heard a peep from Mika since the dream had woken her up. She felt around her own head for Mika, but didn't hear her voice in response. "No. I think... I think she may be sleeping. Or, whatever it is she does. She's not conscious right now, anyway. I can feel her presence, but not... her energy, I guess."

"Okay, so we're not going to get her perspective, at least not right now. Tell me then about what you saw, what you remember."

She stared into nothingness, trying to envision the scene of the dream once more. "I was in a large room," she started, "but it was dark, and cold. I'd never been anywhere like it. The walls were made of stone, so was the floor. Everything was just grey stone."

"Sounds gloomy, frightening. Like a prison"

"But it wasn't, though. I had no fear of the place. I was talking to someone. Someone I couldn't see, but I wasn't afraid of them either."

"Like you can talk to Mika?"

"Just about," Mary agreed. "I was speaking out loud, which was different. Usually when I talk to Mika now, it's within my own head. And the one I was talking to, she was speaking too. Not within my head, I could _hear_ her talking to me, out loud, so it wasn't like it is with Mika in that sense. I trusted her though, the one I was talking to. I knew they were on the side of good."

"The side of... so there's an evil side?"

"There is," Mary replied, shuddering. David immediately reached out and began stroking her hair, a soothing gesture he'd seen Mary use herself on Emma so many weeks ago. Calming, Mary found herself immensely grateful for the comfort.

"I didn't see the evil side in the dream, but I felt it, I _knew_ it, in that bone deep way you know, you understand something that's life and death."

"You don't have to keep going if you don't want to..." David started.

"No, I do, I have to get the dream out of me. It'll have power over me so long as I keep it stuck inside."

Nodding in understanding, he waited for Mary to continue.

"The way we were talking... It was a war, and we were preparing for a battle, preparing for an invasion, because the other side had..."

"Had what?"

Pained, Mary sucked in a breath. "Had who would be the better question. They'd taken someone, and we were planning the rescue. We were willing to do whatever it took to get them back."

She looked up at David then.

"And that's when I walked over to this... really beautiful, really ornate mirror in the corner of the room. It was one of the only pieces of furniture in the room, it was largely empty aside from it. And I looked straight into this mirror, and I said that 'when it comes down to it,' and I was going to continue, I was going to finish the sentence, but then... my reflection in the mirror, it did it for me. That's who I was speaking to the whole dream, my reflection, but I didn't know it, didn't see it, until I looked into the mirror."

Eyebrow raised, David tried to understand. "So your reflection in the dream was something separate from you?"

"In a sense. I mean, it was me. As I walked towards the mirror, my reflection walked towards me. We _were_ mirror images, until my reflection finished my sentence. I wasn't the one speaking, _it_ was."

"You think your reflection was Mika? Your unconscious mind trying to put a face, an image to what's been happening to you, by allowing you to picture Mika as your reflection, as your mirror image?"

"As at once part of me, but something separate from me. Yes."

"You said it finished your sentence for you. What did your reflection say?"

Mary swallowed, tempted to look away, but finding herself unable to. His eyes were always such a beacon for her, she never could look away from him, not for something so important, something that impacted him too. He deserved better than for her to say it to the wall, to the floor, to anything but him.

"It said we would die for him."

David paled noticeably, and Mary felt guilt overtake her.

"I think that's about when I started screaming," Mary offered. "The shock of my reflection talking to me, and saying that... that's when the dream ended."

"Who... who were you trying to save?"

Mary bit her lip. "Assuming we're right on the theory that my reflection speaking to me was in fact my sub-conscious's way of turning Mika into someone I could see... David, there's only one man who Mika and I would both willingly die for."

David shot up off the bed, a rage that Mary had never seen before flashing in his eyes.

"No," he snapped.

"David..."

"No, Mare!" David glared at her, even as he began pacing around her bedroom alcove, not taking his eyes off of her for a moment. "I get what's going on, I understand it, I believe it, believe you, believe there's even something to the idea of there being something similar buried in me somewhere. But if you think I'm going to let Mika lead you on some suicide mission for me..."

Mary groaned in frustration before climbing off her bed and going over to him. "This isn't Mika, David! I told you, she's not even conscious right now! This wasn't her dream, it was mine, and it probably didn't even mean anything anyway. You're right here, with me, safe! It was a dream!"

"A dream that had you shoot up out of a dead sleep, screaming in a terror that I couldn't snap you out of for five minutes! Emma had to hit you!"

"Oh, good, we remember Emma. Our friend who's just upstairs, asleep, blissfully unaware of any weirdness going on between us, so let's quiet down and try to keep it that way!"

Something dangerous sparked in David's eyes then, and Mary found herself shivering in the furthest thing from fear.

_Oh great,_ she thought. _Wonderful. Marvelous. It's the middle of the night, we're both exhausted, he's about to go postal, and I'm as attracted to him now as I've ever been. That's helpful. _

She realized just a second too late that she was biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, as she experienced the bitter, acidy taste of it.

"I'm not going to keep my voice down, not going to just shut up because you don't like what I'm saying. We don't know what's going on with us," he ranted. "What little we've managed to figure out tells us how important your dreams are, for you and Mika... probably for me too if we're right and I've got a, a Mika too... and you want to just discount a nightmare like that?"

"When it's my dream, not hers, then yeah!"

"What even makes you think it wasn't hers?!"

"I can remember it, for one. And I haven't been remembering Mika's dreams, you know that."

"Oh, because this thing in your head hasn't been progressing, you know, at all," he drawled sarcastically.

"You're being an ass," Mary informed him dryly. "Sure, it's possible that I'm going to start remembering Mika's dreams, especially as I now know I'm experiencing them. But I'd know it if it was her dream!"

"Seems to me that it could have been a dream from either of your perspectives," he argued. "What makes you so sure it wasn't Mika's dream, with her the one talking to someone she couldn't see, and you were the reflection who... was so willing to _die _for me," he finished, hissing the key word as if it were some horrible curse.

Stunned, Mary stared at him. "I guess it could have been either way," she admitted. "I'm not yet entirely used to sharing my head, not used to considering the possibility of my dreams not being my own. But David, Mika's not even _awake_ right now. If it had been her dream, the end of it would have broken _her_ sleep cycle too, and I would have felt it, felt her reaction, even if she had fallen back asleep right away, which after a dream like that, trust me, she wouldn't have."

"It was your dream?"

"Yes!"

"Then why," he choked, "Why in God's name are you dreaming about volunteering to team up with the voice in your head to die for me?!"

"Because I'm in love with you, you idiot!" Mary exclaimed, exasperation plain on her features.

David froze, staring at her, his disbelief obvious. "What?"

Half laughing, Mary looked skyward as if searching for divine assistance, then closed the distance between herself and the man she loved, placing her hands on his face. "I love you, you idiot," she repeated in a whisper. "And I am terrified of it. Because loving you means I could not handle losing you, you get that? So when I dream of you in danger, of course I would do anything to save you. Of course I would be willing to..."

"Don't say it," he cut her off. "I can't hear you say it again."

She smiled at him, vibrantly, and he wondered at it, at the depth of feeling it inspired in him. "Why not?" she asked him.

"You know why."

"Tell me anyway."

"I'd do anything for you," he told her. "Anything. But I can't deal with the idea of you willing to do the same for me. The idea of you in any danger at all, let alone danger you'd put yourself into for me, makes my head feel like it's going to explode. I don't like it."

He grinned then, in that sudden way of his that was always disarming whenever she wasn't expecting it, which in this moment, she was, and she felt her own smile spread in response.

"And you know that. You get that. Because you know, you have to know, that I love you too."

Laughing, crying, Mary pulled David into an embrace. And as he kissed her as passionately as he ever had, he promised himself that he would never allow her to be hurt.

* * *

><p>They were lying together, back on her bed. He was on his back, angled towards her side of the bed, while she was splayed out over him. She continued to kiss him, while he dragged his hands over every reachable inch of her body.<p>

She moved to kiss him behind his right ear, and the moan it dragged out of him, he wasn't even sure was entirely human. He felt her smile against his skin, and he wondered how it was that she could make him feel sheepish, and drive him out of his mind with want at the exact same time.

The woman had skills.

Flipping them around so he had her trapped beneath his own body, he spent a few very enjoyable moments kissing her neck, before pulling back.

The resistant whine he drew from Mary in reply was enough to make a man feel pretty damn good.

"Hey," he murmured, grinning as Mary locked her legs around his own, and used her own momentum to propel herself up into him for another kiss. "Hey," he continued, "Slow down for a second."

"Whyyyy?" Mary whined, drawing out the sound.

"Because," he started, sneaking another kiss. "If we don't stop soon, I'm not going to be able to."

"And that's a problem because...?" she asked, bucking against him in a way that she knew he would take as both the taunt and tease that it was.

He groaned, long and deep. "You are going to drive me crazy," he informed her, pausing to kiss her between each word of the short sentence. He kissed her one last time, nipping at her lower lip, then rolled off her to the other side of the bed. He was quick to pull her in against him, arms wrapped around her, but there was no denying he'd thrown up a stop sign.

She pouted at him, with a light in her eyes that told him that she wasn't really upset.

"Be good," he told her, an obvious plea in his voice.

Flashing him a quick smile that reminded them both that she could very easily not be good and get her way for it, she instead snuggled into him, reaching to pull the blanket up over them both.

"Tell you what," she murmured once she was good and comfortable. "I'll be good if you tell me why I have to be."

"Mmm," he hummed. "Two reasons. One, and you know it well, my divorce isn't finalized yet. And when we're finally together, I want it to be just us. Nothing and no one in between us, and no reason to regret anything later. Just us, baby."

Feeling goosebumps that had nothing to do with cold come over her body, she smiled against him. "Okay, that's a good one."

"And two," he continued, glancing at Mary's alarm clock, "It's 4:12 in the morning and your alarm goes off in just over two hours. We should get the sleep we promised Emma we would. Because honey, two hours isn't nearly long enough for us to not be good. When we're finally not good, we're gonna need all night."

It was with a rather delighted male pride that he felt Mary shiver against him. "Cold?" he asked teasingly.

She shook her head at him, trying very hard not to beam at him and failing miserably in the attempt. "Shut up!" she demanded.

He leaned over with a grin to give her one last kiss 'good night', before noticing a cut on Mary's lip in the limited light the candle provided. Rubbing his thumb over the cut, he eyed her carefully. "Did I do that?" he asked, recoiling slightly at the thought of having hurt her even in such a small way.

Unsure of what he was talking about at first, her eyes lit in realization. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "No, that was my doing. I bit my lip a bit harder than I should have."

Simultaneously relieved and confused, David just looked at her. "When did you do that?" he wondered.

Her smile spontaneously turned somewhat wicked. "Not telling."

"Mare," he sighed, dragging out her name, turning it into a scold.

"Nope!" she declared, flipping around in bed so that she was still lying right by him, but with her back against his front. "Telling you would most definitely go against the plan of being good."

His arms around her tightened noticeably, and even as she grinned, her spunky side had her bend her head to place a kiss on one of them.

"So," she continued, "I'll have to tell you another time then. Good night!"

He was pretty sure the sing-songy note in her voice was entirely intentional, and in response he grumbled his own good night into the back of her neck, gaining the giggle he'd been going for.

Mary fell asleep a short fifteen minutes later, relaxing easily against him.

Blinking sleepily himself, David finally allowed himself to close his eyes.

He hadn't been willing to sleep, until he knew she was good, and as the sound of her steady breathing lulled him to sleep, he knew that she finally was.

* * *

><p>When the alarm went off, David Nolan was quite certain there had been a mistake, that they'd set it wrong, or that there had been a six hour time change they had forgotten about. Surely, surely it was still the middle of the night. It had only been five minutes since he'd last closed his eyes after all, he figured.<p>

Mary was shuffling against him, burying her face in the crook of his neck in the process. "No," she muttered. "It's not morning. I don't accept it."

Blearily, he opened one eye to look at the clock. "It's 6:32."

The whine she made in reply reminded him vaguely of the cry of one of the shelter dogs, and even in his exhaustion, it brought a smile to his face, and with it, increasing consciousness. Enough so that he was finally able to recognize the position he and Mary had gotten themselves into while asleep.

They'd fallen asleep both on their sides, with her back to his front, he remembered, and his arms wrapped around her stomach. An innocent enough pose, to be sure. One that wouldn't have driven him so completely insane, at any rate.

Now, he found himself lying flat on his back, while Mary sprawled half on top of him, half off; her face still buried against his neck. Her right leg was hooked around his own leg, and while his left arm was still wrapped around her, his right hand had worked its way under the camisole she slept in, half way up her back.

He was pretty sure the feel of her bare skin was going to cause him to spontaneously combust. And, of course, getting himself out of the situation was another issue entirely.

"What are you thinking, right this second?" Mary sleepily asked.

He exhaled heavily in the way people do where they could easily laugh if there weren't contradictory emotions interfering. "I'm wondering how exactly I'm going to extract my hand from your shirt without you noticing that it was ever there.

_That_ woke her up.

And she was suddenly very, very aware of the heat she could feel in her upper back, where his hand met her skin. He knew it too, the evil, evil man, as he began moving his hand up, down and around her back.

She did so love to have her back scratched.

Unable to see her face, he'd had to judge her reactions by her body alone. He'd known the very moment she'd finally realized the intimacy of the way they were lying on the bed together, when the muscles of her back had tensed beneath him.

Aiming to lessen the tension a little bit, he'd started to move his hand out from under her top, when he felt her shiver. Curious, he'd moved his hand back up, then around in semi circles, back down, curving in a wave just above her waist, using only the lightest pressure with his nails.

The tension in her back evaporated so quickly he was seized with the momentary, insane impulse to check and make sure her muscles hadn't somehow leaked out of her onto the floor.

Mary Margaret loved to have her back scratched. It was just one more little thing about her, one more reason to adore her, one more piece of her that only he had, and he collected it, greedily.

He wanted all of her.

Trying to gain her wits back, she grumbled something about taking advantage of innocent sleepers, keeping enough fun in her voice that he would know she wasn't at all actually offended.

Feeling the vibration of his chuckle beneath her really didn't help her whole desperately wanting him situation though.

She sucked in a breath and pulled herself up, out of his neck where she had buried her face, lifted her head enough to see his face. He'd angled his head so he could watch her, which in turn allowed her an unobstructed view of him, of the definite hint of colour in his cheeks, and of the half smile playing at his lips.

Tongue firmly placed in cheek, she raised an eyebrow at him. "And _I'm_ the one who needs to be good?"

Playfully narrowing his eyes at her, he slowly withdrew his hand from under her camisole - carefully hiding his smile at the regret on her face - and moved it to her leg, still hooked around his own. He slid his hand down her thigh, every bit as slowly as he had slid it down her back only moments previously.

Her wide eyes flew to meet his, and he recognized the emerald of their green with satisfaction.

"You were saying?" he drawled.

Befuddled, she could only stare at him. "Um..."

"I thought so," he smirked. "Come on, baby. Think it's time for us to get up. Before we get ourselves in trouble... clearly neither one of us has any particular talent for being good."

He untwisted his body from hers then, and she felt the immediate increase in her capacity for rational thought, and the presence of mind to take advantage of his unsuspecting nature and tackle him back to the bed. Thrilling at watching, _feeling_ him lose his breath beneath her, she crawled up his body, so that her face was right next to his ear.

"Being good's overrated," she whispered.

His eyes had darkened, and sharpened somehow, and she wondered if he had any idea of it, the fact that his eyes changed when he wanted her, just as hers apparently did for him. Emeralds and sapphires, she mused. Just one more way they fit.

She looked rather delighted with herself all of the sudden, he thought, and he wondered when exactly she'd gained the upper hand.

He attempted to reach up, sneak a kiss, but she'd been expecting the move, and he watched in disbelief as Mary pulled back, a smirk playing at her lips.

"But, you know, there's something to be said for it anyway," she murmured. "The slow burn that comes with being good can be... fun... to play with. We'll do it your way. For now."

And with that, she got up off the bed, and walked - bounce in her step - to the washroom and out of his view.

He still lied frozen on the bed, staring at the doorway where she'd disappeared from his line of vision.

"Evil," he muttered to himself. "That's just plain evil."

His attempt not to laugh lasted about three seconds before it went up in smoke. Chuckling, he shook his head.

He'd get her back for it eventually.

* * *

><p>Mary took a quick - lightning speed really - shower to make up for the few extra minutes she'd spent lying around in bed with David, teasing and taunting on both sides.<p>

That had been fun.

It was just all too easy to lose her head around him. She could never think, could barely breathe, couldn't do anything but feel, him and her and the kind of love she'd never dared imagine actually possible.

The ideas of plots and plans and fighting for him of so many weeks ago seemed so far away now, and an amusement for it. How funny that she'd ever thought that she needed to be more for him than she already was. If he was to fall for her, he was always going to have to fall for _her_.

And he had fallen for her. He loved her. _He loved her_. The man she loved, loved her back. She'd never known anything could make her so happy.

She glanced in the mirror, noted the light in her eyes, the rosiness of her cheeks, the smile playing at her lips. She'd never looked like this, she realized. She looked different, looked _radiant_. She'd never seen the appeal in her own appearance before, not this way. She felt beautiful.

She turned to grin at her reflection one more time before turning to leave the room, then froze, and turned back. She could have sworn she'd seen something in the mirror, something that wasn't her, something that didn't make sense; but clearly she was just having strange flashbacks of the dream.

She'd never had long hair in her life, after all.

Shuddering, she shook her head at herself. Reflections would just be a weird thing for her for a day or so, that's all. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself, and forcefully ignored the apprehension, the wariness she now saw on her face in the mirror. Rearranging her features into a smile for the sake of those she occupied the apartment with, she turned to leave the room in a rush, and ended up walking straight into David in the process.

"Hey," he started, a teasing grin working its way onto his face, until he got a good look at Mary's expression and stopped, worried. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Supposing it was probably a good thing to know in advance that she would never be able to get away with anything in all their life together, Mary sighed, then smiled - for real this time - at David. "I will never be able to hide how I'm feeling from you, will I?"

"Not a chance. Will you tell me?"

She really didn't have any interest at all in keeping secrets from him, especially when he so carefully asked - leaving the choice of whether or not she wished to tell him entirely up to her. He had been so understanding already, and there was no denying that having someone to talk to about it all helped.

"It was just a silly thing," Mary started, "probably some leftover vision from the dream..."

Emma came stomping down the stairs, causing Mary to immediately cut off in the middle of her sentence.

"Morning, guys," Emma greeted.

"Good morning, Em," Mary quietly replied. "Did you get back to sleep okay?"

"I did, actually. I was worried about you though."

"I'm really okay now, I swear. I also wanted to apologize for waking the two of you up in the middle of the night."

Emma and David immediately began protesting, but Mary shook them off. "I mean it. The two of you have been so understanding - absurdly so really - of all my... issues... but that, last night was unfair to you. I've tended to have unpleasant dreams ever since I can remember, but I've never had a dream that I woke up screaming from like that. I am so grateful of the way the two of you took care of me, but I'm determined to not let anything like that happen again."

"Maybe if you talked about it?" Emma asked.

Unable to keep from exchanging a quick glance with David, Mary sighed. "I'd actually rather not talk about the dream, at least not right now. I'd rather take the time to work through it a bit myself. I know you and David are here for when I am ready to talk to you about it, and I thank you, so much, for that."

Not having noticed the look exchanged between David and Mary, and not at all suspicious of her best friend's evasion techniques, Emma's smile came easily. "I get it, Mare. As long as you do know I'm here. I'm happy to help you however I can."

Trying hard not to feel guilty, Mary pulled Emma into a hug. It wasn't the right time, she knew, to let Emma in on everything, but that didn't change the fact that it hurt to hide things from her.

Accepting the embrace as easily as she ever had, Emma bit her lip. Mary did seem better, much better, than she had a few hours previous - David had clearly helped there - but she still could not help but worry about her.

"Okay, I'm gonna need some coffee," Emma proclaimed, as she broke the hug only to wrap an arm around Mary's shoulder seconds later.

"I've got that taken care of," David nodded towards the kitchen. "I put the pot on while you were in the bathroom Mare."

"Readily prepared caffeine!" Emma cheered, as she made a break for the kitchen counter. "My favourite thing."

"I figure you guys were great enough to keep me out of the storm this weekend. I might as well show my gratitude by getting the coffee going to get us all through the great torture of life that is Monday mornings."

"Good man," the blonde decided. "Mare, you can keep him."

Mary blushed bright, just as she always did, though the smile on her face was as amused as Emma's own. "Appreciate the permission, Swan," she drawled.

"Spunk!" Emma exclaimed, amusement, delight, and just the slightest bit of surprise lighting her pretty eyes. She was pretty sure something had changed between her friends - usually when she teased them, she didn't get a fun little comeback - but glancing at the clock, realized that the necessary interrogation of the pair would have to wait. The storm had prevented her from making it to the station to release Mr. Gold on Sunday, and she was pretty sure the pawnbroker was not going to be amused by the extra night in a jail cell.

Pouring a generous amount of coffee into her regular travel mug, she glanced up at David, who had walked over to Mary, and touched a hand to her face. Lovey-dovey eyes on both of them, she thought, then laughed to herself.

"Pretty sure you guys have already forgotten I'm here," she teased, "but I'll say good-bye anyway. I've got to get going before Gold does something I'll regret."

Turning back to her friend for a short moment, Mary ran to grab a small bag of snacks she'd prepared the night before off the counter. "Bring some desserts! Keep you going through the day, and help me clear out the bake shop."

David blinked puppy-dog eyes at her. "Do I get a goody bag?"

Mary's smile turned somehow wicked. "If you're good," she purred.

Watching as David's eyes heated in reply, Emma got the very strong feeling that this was something she really didn't want to know.

"Okay!" Emma said, drawing out the word. "I'll be going then. Bye guys!"

Barely hearing the door slamming shut behind his friend, David narrowed his eyes at Mary. "You are out to torture me."

"Yes," Mary agreed.

"Can I ask why?"

"You can."

Shaking his head at her, he tried hard to hide his smile, and was pretty sure he failed in the attempt. "Okay. Why?"

She bit her lip playfully. "Well, it's fun, isn't it?"

He chuckled. "There are a great many words for it, Ms Blanchard. I am not sure that 'fun' is one of them."

She grinned. "Then I'm not doing my part properly. I'll have to work on that. But later. I've got to get to work too."

Knowing that Mary generally preferred to walk to the school, as close by as it was, David jumped at an opportunity to spend a few extra minutes with her. "If you can wait a couple minutes for me to brush my teeth, I'll walk you?"

"I think I can spare a few minutes for such a gentlemanly offer."

"Well then," he bowed, amusement written all over his face. "It would be my honour, my lady."

* * *

><p>The day was busy, which David typically preferred. He'd come in, spoken to one of his co-workers who worked weekends, who had explained that a large number of the animals had not had a very good weekend, out of fear of the storm. His shift that day was to be spent entirely with the animals, and so he'd have to take his time with each and every one of them, for fear of frightening the already skittish dogs and cats.<p>

Yes, usually a busy day spent working with the animals was his favourite, but that was when he had less on his mind.

Out of the apartment, and out of anyone else's earshot, Mary had explained to him the reason for the flicker of fear in her eyes earlier that morning off as seeing things. For a split second, out of the corner of her eye she'd seen her reflection as wearing hair in a mess of long curls, but when she'd turned back to the mirror, everything was normal... obviously, she'd said with an embarrassed laugh. She was positive that the dream had just messed with her head a little bit, figured that it was probably to be expected.

David wondered about that.

There was something in him, some instinct, some gut feeling, that insisted something more was going on, that all the answers he and Mary wanted were right there in front of him, if he'd just open his eyes and see them.

Which was, to be quite honest, really freaking annoying.

She was everything. Absolutely everything. He loved her with all that he had, all that he was, and the idea that she - somehow, still, after all the obstacles, all of his screw-ups - loved him back meant the world to him. Her love, he had no doubt, would be the greatest thing to ever happen to him, no matter how long a life he should live.

Even now, as he tried half-heartedly to focus on his work, he could not help but flash back to the moment that Mary had told him she loved him. He remembered how he'd practically frozen, disbelief, and a kind of joy he'd never known possible flooding him. Her love had seemed this almost impossible thing, and having it, he'd felt like he could do anything. Sing, dance, jump out a window and test the theory on human capability for flight.

_I'm in love with you, you idiot. _

He'd have that moment for the rest of his life, a moment that thrilled him, moved him, comforted him... and made him laugh. It worked. For them, it worked. They never did go about things normally, but they would end up where they wanted to all the same.

He wondered if she had any idea what she, what that moment, what her love meant to him. He wondered if he'd been clear enough, or if he'd been too struck dumb - idiot apt for the moment, he thought ironically - for him to have come anything close to saying all that he felt.

Then he realized that she knew anyway. That he would never have all the words he needed, because words weren't enough. So long as she felt it too, felt as he did, they would always, forever be alright.

Forever. That was what he wanted, what he needed, what he craved. Forever with her.

He was determined to do all that was in his power to help _her_, help them figure out what was going on with her, and how to find it within himself. He was positive that it was there, in him somewhere. It had to be. The connection there was between them was nothing ordinary.

He would do it all for her.

But for that exact moment, he was busy working with Lola, and a couple of the other dogs. All three quiet, all three well behaved.

He was grateful for that. It afforded him a few minutes of split attention, to daydream about one tiny fiery brunette, and the three little words that came with her.

* * *

><p>Mary had taken advantage of the walk, of the emptiness of the streets at that still early hour to tell David about what she'd thought she'd seen. He responded as he had with everything she'd told him over the last couple of days, with calm acceptance. He actually seemed to believe there was something more to it than just the residual effect from the dream, though he didn't have any suggestions for what more there could be.<p>

She really didn't know what she would do without him. Anyone else would have thought she was crazy, hell, even Emma would have a hard time understanding. But David just got it, got everything, got her.

She loved him so much for it.

She'd gotten the chance to tell him again, as they got to the school late enough that all the other teachers had already arrived and were inside out of view; but still early enough that students were not yet arriving. No one was around to see or suspect, and so he'd walked her all the way into her classroom, satisfied smiles on their faces. He'd even felt comfortable to sneak a kiss good-bye, and she beamed up at him, touched a hand to his face, and said it.

"_Have a good day. I love you." _

She would never, ever, tire of being responsible for putting that joy in his eyes, that smile on his face.

"_I love you too. More than anything." _

Wondering if it was actually possible for a heart to burst the way she felt like hers just might, she sat down at her desk to review the lesson plan for the day. Knowing it was likely that only half her attention, if that, would actually be directed at the task, she gave herself plenty of license to daydream until her students arrived. After all, they would actually need her full attention.

Mika finally stirred for the first time that morning. Immediately sensing Mary's happiness, and unable to help but be affected by it, she was cheerful in her own greeting. _Morning, Mare! What did I miss?_

Mary could only bury her head in her hands and laugh.

* * *

><p>Abigail was bracing herself.<p>

She'd had a very unpleasant weekend. After being served with divorce papers from the imp Friday evening, she had spent the better part of Saturday staring at them, trying to figure out what to do next. Not coming up with any ideas, she'd given up on the thought of a plan and just spent the remainder of the weekend searching for David - not fun, considering the violent storm that had continually circled around the town through most of it. She'd realized once she failed to find him at the animal shelter and at the B&B, it was likely that he was with Mary, but couldn't figure out where. She'd tried the diner, the bar, the seaside park - a risky proposition, given the proximity of the water, and its violent waves and higher than normal tide. She'd checked most of the shops in the downtown core, and she'd even peeked into the woods by the bridge once the storm had calmed down late Sunday night.

Once she gave up on the idea of finding David in one of the normal spots, driven by desperation, she'd taken to driving up and down the streets of the residential areas, finally spotting his truck parked outside a small apartment building that she had to assume was Mary Margaret's.

Worst case scenario, she'd despaired. He was staying with Mary, and she was at a loss. She'd had no idea that they'd fallen quite so much for each other so quickly, that they were already living together.

She'd gone back to 'Kathryn's home, and spent most of the night crying out of sheer desperation, before setting out again just after dawn to wait and watch at Mary's apartment. Keeping hidden, she'd seen the Swan woman leave first, followed a short while later by Mary and David. They'd been laughing, walking arm in arm, and they'd looked so obviously in love with each other that she'd had to keep checking to make sure it was still the two of them, and not somehow Snow and James.

"_True love cannot be broken, not by distance, time, nor death... or lives. You will always, no matter what, have that love with you."_

Rumplestilskin's words, spoken a lifetime ago, echoed through her mind, and suddenly she'd known exactly what she would have to do.

James would never stop loving Snow. Never stop fighting for her either, not even when he was cursed into being David, and she Mary.

She'd long thought that his determination to be an honourable man was his biggest weakness, but she realized now that she'd always been wrong.

Honour wasn't James' greatest weakness. Snow was.

* * *

><p>Tired, after a long day and a lack of sleep the night before, David was sitting at the desk in the back room office of the shelter, writing out his end of shift notes. It was something he appreciated about the way the shelter was run, that every animal had a folder in which the workers noted any relevant details - appetite, sleeping habits, changes in behaviour - to help ensure that all employees were aware and up to date on what was going on with animals they may not work with everyday.<p>

It was worthwhile work. But tedious all the same, especially when one was ready for the day to be over.

Finally finishing up, he wished his remaining co-workers a good night, then walked outside. He had a thought of heading to Mary's and Emma's, to see if he could join them for dinner, and spend a couple hours with them before heading back to his room at the B&B for the night.

That plan went straight out the window when he turned to his truck, and saw Kathryn leaning against the passenger side door.

"David," she calmly greeted. "Finally. Come with me. We have a great deal to discuss."

* * *

><p>David drove Kathryn back to her house silently, uninterested in making small talk, or having this conversation at all. He firmly believed that there was nothing left to be said, but she plainly disagreed. She'd suggested that they go on a walk together, perhaps through the woods, or down to the beach.<p>

He felt a bit bad, the way she recoiled at his glare, but he really didn't know what she was playing at. He had no interest in going on an evening stroll with her, especially to places that meant so very much to himself and Mary.

"I'll give you a drive home," he had told her. "But no more than that. I meant it when I said I was done, Kathryn."

Arriving at the familiar house, he parked the truck, then turned to look at Kathryn expectantly.

She only rolled her eyes at him. "When I said we had things to discuss, I meant actually talk, David. At least come inside. You owe me enough to have a proper conversation about all of this."

He shook his head, but unbuckled his seat belt. "I don't owe you anything, Kathryn. I'll come inside for a few minutes, we can discuss matters, I'll answer your questions if you have any, but that's it."

Once inside the house, he sat down on the well worn couch in the living room, and it struck Abigail how very awkward and uncomfortable he looked sitting in it. He didn't fit, at all, in the house, or in their life. He never had, even when he had been trying so hard to.

She really wished she could just let him go, but she'd long ago decided that his and Snow's safety mattered a great deal more than their happiness.

"Can I offer you a drink?" she asked.

"No," he declined quickly. "I told you I wasn't going to be staying. What is this even about?"

"I told you, I wanted to talk."

"And I'm not interested in having this conversation yet again. I shouldn't even have come in at all..."

"I got served," she interrupted, freezing him in place. "With your divorce papers. Your lawyer came by Friday evening."

"Glad he at least took care of that before he went and got himself arrested," David mumbled to himself.

"What was that?" she snapped, sharply.

"Nothing. It's good that you got the papers. There's no need for us to drag any of this out longer than necessary."

"There's plenty of need," Kathryn contradicted, "we just separated, we - you - just took off, without actually talking about anything with me! You're being rash, you're not thinking properly, and we shouldn't just jump into a divorce just like that. We can take a break, if that's what you want, before we work our way back together..."

"We're not getting back together, Kathryn! You're deceitful, manipulative, cruel... what in the world would make you think I'd want to stay with someone like that?"

"We have a life," she told him quietly. "A marriage. And that is worth too much to walk away from for one little mistake."

"One little mistake?" he asked, incredulous. "Is that what you call faking a mental breakdown?"

"One... mistake, yes. We love each other too much..."

"I don't love you," he interjected quietly.

"What?" Kathryn gasped, pained.

"I don't love you. I haven't since I woke up from that coma, and I suspect you know that. I tried, I tried to make it work, tried to remember how I must have once felt for you when I married you. I tried to do the right thing, and you took advantage of that. We don't fit together, and the best thing to do now is stop trying to force something that's never going to work. This divorce can be clean, easy, quick. I don't want anything from you. You can have the house, have everything. I don't even want to bother with splitting the money in the joint bank account. It's all yours. I just want out."

She stared at him. "I'm not signing those divorce papers."

David stood up, headed for the door. "Then this will be a far more painful, drawn out process for both of us. But the ending is going to be the same. I'm done. The divorce is happening, Kathryn, so you might as well accept it and move on. For your sake, I truly hope one day you'll find somebody who makes you happy, who you don't feel the need to trick and lie to..."

"Like you've found with Mary Margaret?" she asked, sneering the name with vindictiveness.

He eyed her evenly. "This is not about her."

"The hell it isn't, David! I know you're living with her, I saw your truck parked outside her place Sunday night! And less than a week after you left me at that! Boy, do you ever move quick."

Ice cold fury lit his gaze. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm not living with her. I spent Saturday helping her cook. By the time we were done making everything, the storm had gotten bad enough that it wasn't safe to go anywhere, so she offered me a place to stay to wait it all out. As you well know, the storm didn't end until the middle of the night, and I wasn't going to leave at one this morning. You don't believe me, talk to Sheriff Swan, Mary's _roommate,_ who was there with us for most of the weekend. The two of them are basically the only friends I've got, of course I'd spend my free time with them. And what the hell were you even doing at Mary's apartment anyway?"

"I drove around town looking for you, after I got these ridiculous divorce papers! And I finally find you, there, shacking up with her!"

"What were you doing, staking the place out? Watching us?!"

Kathryn said nothing, just looked away long enough that he knew he'd hit the mark.

He shook his head, trying to clear the rage that clouded it. "You stay away from Mary, do you hear me? You stay away from her, you stay away from Emma, and you stay away from me! I don't owe you any explanations anymore for how I choose to spend my time and who I choose to spend it with. We are done! The divorce is nothing but a formality at this point, and it's one that _will _happen, whether you like it or not."

"It's not going to happen, David," she commented, suddenly, eerily calm. "You're not going to go through with it. You're going to phone up Gold, and tell him that you've changed your mind, and that we've reconciled."

David laughed humorlessly. "Do tell, why in the world would I do that?"

"Regina Mills has been a good friend to me these last few months, did you know that?"

He rolled his eyes. "I have no interest in your life anymore Kathryn. You're free to live it, but I won't be part of it. I'm leaving."

"Oh, no, you're going to want to hear this. As I said, David, Regina has been a dear, dear friend to me. Someone to talk to, someone to confide in, you know how it is? And she has been horrified, utterly horrified, to hear of your affair with Ms Blanchard."

"It's not an affair!" he snarled.

"You can call it whatever you wish, David, we both know how people would see it. How Regina sees it. And she's not sure that she's comfortable allowing her son to continue in the class of such a vile homewrecker."

The creeping horror in her friend's eyes was enough to cause Abigail to nearly stutter, but she forced herself to carry on. _I promise you James,_ she thought, _this is for your own good. _

"In fact," she continued, "she thinks that the other parents should be informed. You haven't been awake all that long, you have no idea what a conservative town this is. Forget divorce... I don't think one has even happened here in years. You did notice the lack of divorce attorneys in town, did you not? But adultery... my God, people just wouldn't accept it. Wouldn't want their children to be near her! Parents would start pulling their students from her class... Regina was even talking about going to the board, letting them know what kind of woman they actually have working there. Mary's career would be ruined, her reputation. I could even see her being run out of town. No woman would want her here, knowing what she's like."

"What she's like? She's good, she's kind, generous, and welcoming... she's one of the best people in this town!"

Kathryn raised an eyebrow. "Mmm, perhaps. But does anyone really know that? She's quiet. Keeps to herself. Until the Swan girl came to town, and you woke up and just couldn't stay away, I'm quite certain that she didn't even have a friend at all."

Abigail did well to hide the flinch of pain at the thought of the lonely life her friend, her sister-in-law had lived for so many years. David could not do the same. He was in agony, and she could see it, so she went for the jugular. "You may think she's lovely, but no one else knows it, and so no one has a reason to believe in her. But me? So regularly involved in town functions, every week seen out enjoying coffee or some shopping with our highly respected mayor? Me, the poor, jilted, cheated on wife? With the _mayor_ on my side, confirming every word I say? The townspeople will be quick to believe me and Regina, and you and I both know it."

David looked sick. "You cannot do this," he whispered.

"As I said, David. Regina has been a dear, dear friend to me. And were I to be able to tell her that my husband and I were happily reconciled, why there would be no problem at all. We could all go back to our lives as they were meant to be. We'd be together, and your little mistress would still have her job. Otherwise... well, I don't need to tell you the power Regina would have in the situation. It's your call. Do you want to blow Ms Blanchard's life to hell, or not?"

He stared at her. "I had thought... that faking a mental breakdown to trap me in a life I was unhappy in... was the cruelest thing you could possibly do to me, but, but this? This is unimaginable! How can you be this heartless person? How are you okay with stooping to this kind of low? How can you just stand there and destroy peoples' lives like this?"

She smiled blandly at him in reply. "Quite easily, after the mess you've made of my life. This is just me fixing it. Stop the divorce, David. End your relationship with Ms Blanchard... I will not stand by and allow you to continue around with her, humiliating me. You will not see her. You will have no contact with her. Or I swear to you, I will make such a mess of her life, hurt her so deeply, that she will never forgive you for it anyway. I'll destroy her, and believe me, I will make sure she knows that you are responsible for it. I'll make both your lives a living hell."

His eyes flashed. "So to prevent one living hell, I get to walk back in here and live another one with you? Those are the options you're giving me?"

"If you want to look at it that way, then yes. I prefer to think of it as just forcing you to get back to our marriage, to the _vows_ that we said to each other."

"Vows that I have no real memory of! Kathryn, this is no marriage! And I am sorry that I misled you into thinking there was anything here for so long, but I am being honest with you now. I'm not in love with you, and it is not fair to either one of us to stay in a relationship where there is no love. Neither one of us could ever be happy! Just let me go."

"I'm not going to do that," Kathryn told him resolutely. "I am not willing to end our marriage. This is going to be your choice, David, but you better understand the consequences either way."

"I am begging you," he told her, and she was alarmed to hear the shake in his voice. "I am begging you not to do this to me."

"You've done this to yourself," she replied, keeping her voice steady. "And now you need to decide who gets to pay for this. You... or Mary Margaret."

"I won't hurt her," he whispered, and realizing that he was fighting tears, she closed her eyes. "I won't let you ruin her life. I won't have it."

"You love her," she stated.

"Yes," he whispered, looking up, for a moment daring to hope, and seeing even that vanquished at the fury on Kathryn's face.

"Then you have made your choice. We stay together. You move back in. Everything goes back to the way it should have always been."

He looked as though he could barely continue standing, like the turn his life had taken would just cause him to collapse, there on the floor.

"I'm not choosing you," he told her, hatred plain in every word. "I'm choosing her. I'll protect her, I'll always protect her, no matter the cost to myself."

She shook her head at him. "You're going to have to change your tune, real quick. I will not spend my life listening to you mope over that insipid little weakling."

David stood up tall so suddenly the motion was almost violent. "What the hell do you want from me?" he roared. "I'm doing what you asked! I will break things off with the woman I'm actually in love with, I'll move back into this God forsaken house, I will destroy any chance of my own happiness for the rest of my life. What more do you want?!"

"I want my husband back!" she shouted.

"He's _dead_, Kathryn! He died in that car accident years ago! I'm not him, I'm different, I'm somebody else, I'm a completely different person from the man you once loved. And I am sorry that happened to you, but I can't be him! You want to force me to take his place, you want to blackmail and threaten me into it? You can do all of that, but you cannot make me be him, and you can _never_ make me stop loving Mary. I will be in love with her for the rest of my life."

"I guess we are just going to have to deal with that then."

"Why would you even want to?!" he questioned, desperate, even now still searching for the way out of the situation he felt trapped in.

She only stared at him, not responding.

"No, listen, Kathryn," he started, words coming quickly in his desperation. "We can work something out, fix things with Regina, make her understand. Or, we don't even have to involve her at all! We don't have to put ourselves through this. I know I yelled, I know I said terrible things, but you deserve better than a loveless marriage. I want better for you! You can start fresh, start a new life. If you don't want to stay here, if this house is too filled with memories for you, I'll help you find a new place, we can even work out an arrangement for alimony, I'll help pay for it! I'll do anything, I'll help you, I'll wish you all the best in the freaking world, just please don't force me into this! We're not meant for each other, I know we both know this. You're meant for someone who would love you the way that you deserve to be loved, and I know you'll find him, I know it, but you need to let me go and get out there, and look for him! You can find happiness, and I can have mine, we can both be happy!"

He gasped for a breath, then finished. "You don't want to spend the rest of your life with me, Kathryn."

For a moment, just a split second, he thought he saw pity in her gaze, but by the time he'd blinked again, it had disappeared in favour of the cold stare she'd fixed on him the entire miserable evening.

"Unfortunately for us both, David, that's not actually the case."

Abigail had never seen it before, what it looked like when a person completely lost all hope. Until now. David's face had taken on an unhealthy grey pallor, and all light had disappeared out of his eyes. Dark circles under his eyes - he had looked tired, she remembered, when she first ran into him at the animal shelter - and slumped posture combined, he looked the utter picture of someone who had given up. The pain in his deadened eyes was unmistakable.

She had been right. No matter what world, what life they found themselves in, Snow White would always be James' biggest weakness, even when he didn't know that was who they were. The urge to protect her, no matter the cost to him, was absolute. The loss of Snow, and Mary in this world, was the only thing that could ever completely destroy him.

She had known that for years. Known it for a lifetime. And now, she herself, was the one who had used it against him.

Hating herself, she swallowed, then adopted her Kathryn persona one last time for the night. At least she would keep them both safe. No matter the cost.

Unable to stomach watching David's reactions any longer, Kathryn turned away, and began heading up the stairs. "I am going to bed," she told him. "Your key is on the table. Lock up when you leave. You have until the end of the week to end things with Mary Margaret and move back in here, or I tell Regina to go ahead with the plan to destroy your little girlfriend's life. She's looking forward to it, did I mention that? Apparently Regina's never liked her much. Bad move on Mary Margaret's part, making enemies of the mayor. Guess it works out well for me though," she sneered. "You have a good night, David."

Stopping for a moment on one of the higher steps, she turned back towards him. "Oh, and don't you dare try letting her in on what's going on, coming up with any plans to get out of it. You've made your choice. If you try anything to wreck this for me, I will find out, and you need know that I would make things so much worse for both of you. You would do best not to push me. You would regret it if you did."

And with that, she continued up the remaining steps, walked into her bedroom, closed the door tight, and cried.

* * *

><p>David Nolan found himself on his knees, with no memory of when he had gone down on them. Everything seemed frozen, everything seemed dark, as though all the warmth and light and colour had disappeared from the world.<p>

How had it been mere hours since Mary had told him she loved him? How could a day in which he had been so happy, have turned out so ugly? His life wasn't meant to turn out this way, he raged. He was meant to have a happy ending, he was meant to marry the woman he loved, meant to have children with her! He was meant to spend his life teasing her, playing with her, learning every new and precious detail about her. He was meant to finally find out what it would be to not be good with her.

He was meant to have a life. And now he had nothing.

He picked himself up off the floor, somehow. Turned to the side table, where Kathryn had laid out the barware she had offered him a drink from, back when he still thought he had control over his own life.

Picking up the table, he threw the whole of it as far across the room as he could manage, taking some bitter satisfaction at the crash of the glass. From there, he walked out of the house, slamming the front door shut behind him.

Kathryn could deal with the mess in the morning.

He made it into his truck, started it alright. Drove down the street at a speed he probably shouldn't have been, continued the same way out of the neighbourhood. He wanted out of there, as quickly as was humanly possible.

He made it to the edge of the woods safely, somehow, having no recollection of anything about the drive once he arrived there. Throwing the truck into park, he exited the vehicle - again taking care to slam the door as hard as he could - then ran down to the bridge, as fast as he could, as if sheer speed would somehow take away the ability to feel.

He was acting the child, he knew. Throwing things, slamming doors, speed, none of it fixed anything. As an attempt to blow off some steam, it failed miserably. There would be no losing his rage. It would be with him for the rest of his life, that was the deal he had made, even as he wracked his brain for some way out of it.

They could run, he considered. Mary would agree, she loved him enough for it. They would both rather lose everything else than lose each other. He hated the thought of her giving up everything for him, but he knew how she loved him, he'd seen the look in her eyes. She would never be able to let him go, and he hated the idea of asking her to do so even more.

So they would run. Pack up the truck, and go. Find some new place, find a new life. Emma had liked Boston, maybe they would too...

_Emma._

He froze on the thought of his friend, the woman who had become like family to he and Mary both. Emma had been such a rock for both of them, and the idea of saying good-bye to her was painful. Horrifying. Impossible.

They could ask her to come, he thought. The three of them worked well together in their unconventional family unit anyway. The nights they had spent enjoying dinner, conversation, and long, winding walks were some of his favourite memories. The weekend he'd spent with Emma and Mary relaxing and watching movies - Mary insisting on the old classics, he and Emma teaming up against her to sneak a couple more current action-packed thrillers in between - had been the best of his life. They could have all of that, the easy contentment, the sense of home, of family, they could have it forever. Convincing Emma to go back to her home, back to Boston, shouldn't be too difficult. She hadn't wanted to stay in Storybrooke permanently originally anyway, he remembered. She had only moved at all because of...

_Henry. _

His plans fell to pieces again. Emma would never leave the kid, and he could never ask her to. The young boy meant too much to all of them.

_We could take him with us!_ some voice in his mind screamed.

Regina would make that impossible.

_Grab him and run! _

That was kidnapping.

_He's Emma's kid! _

Not according to the law. They would be running from Regina, not to mention Kathryn, for the rest of their lives. And what kind of life was that?

The only life he had to offer Mary was one that would make them both completely miserable. They could never settle, never be normal. Their life would be filled with fear, with pain. They would forever, constantly, be looking over their shoulders, getting ready to run again, a difficult, draining run, with three adults, a young boy, two pets, any future children... the mere idea was insane, it could never work.

_But we'd be together! _

It wasn't good enough. He wanted better for her. Needed better for her. He just couldn't be the one to give it to her.

He had never known worse agony than this.

Burying his head in his hands, closing his eyes, he accepted what he would have to do. Mary always, always had to take priority. And he would always take care of her.

Pulling out his phone, he sent Mary a quick text, not trusting himself to call her - she'd hear the pain in his voice immediately, and know something was terribly wrong.

_Need to talk to you, right away. Can you meet at our spot? _

Kathryn had given him the week, but he wasn't going to drag things out. It would be cruel to Mary to pretend like everything was fine to give himself a few extra days with her. And besides, she would have known something was horribly wrong anyway. She knew him well enough. Could read him like the book she too was to him. It would hurt her terribly to spend time with him knowing something was horribly wrong, and having him refuse to tell her what, having him deny everything, after all that she had shared with him, all that she'd trusted him with.

No. He wouldn't do it to her. He'd have to end it now. As desperately as he wanted more time with her, he couldn't allow himself it.

"I'd do anything for you," he whispered in the night air. "Even this."

His phone vibrated with Mary's reply.

_I need to talk to you too. Something's happened. I'll be there in ten. I love you. _

The tear slipped down his face unheeded. This wasn't fair. None of this was fair. To her, to him, to anyone. It didn't matter when he did it, that night, or days later. He still would have to break both of their hearts either way.

This was going to destroy her, he knew. This was unforgivable. But the only other options he had were so much worse. He would make sure that she would have a good life, he just couldn't be part of it.

Staring at the phone, at the word love typed out to him by her own hand, he wished that he had been clearer. Wished he hadn't been at such a loss for words when she'd first told him, wished he'd told her more, told her everything.

And if he couldn't have done that, he wished he would have let go of the idea of being good, and just made love to her the way he had so wanted to. Shown her how much he loved her, if he couldn't have found the words to tell her.

He wanted her to know. He _needed_ her to know, as he had never needed anything.

He typed out and sent the response before he could stop himself.

_I love you too. Don't you ever forget it. I'll see you in a few. _

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: *Ducks for cover* <strong>  
><em>

_**Okay, so before everyone starts throwing things, allow me to remind you all that I did say that things were not going to stay lovely and perfect and fluffy forever. Turned out, it was only another half chapter before everything went straight to hell (damn it, Abigail!). It was time for this story to really progress, and that has happened here. **_

_**NOW you can throw things. **_

_**In all seriousness, this chapter was as difficult to write as any that has come up so far, and the next few chapters are going to be even more of a challenge. I'm really just getting into the heart of the story I want to tell now, and so I will be taking my time to make sure I'm getting this part of the story right. It's not going to be another situation like it was at the end of the summer, when I whipped out chapters eleven and twelve within a week. That said, when you guys ask me when more's coming, believe me, that inspires me to work faster. **_

_**I have started a new twitter account just for updates about this story. I realize that my personal twitter is so full of random stuff about my life and commentary on sports, that a lot of you probably wouldn't want to follow it. With this twitter, I will only use it to send out updates on where I'm at in writing the newest chapter. And I may just - depending on the number of people who follow the account - use it to send out sneak peeks, and 140 character snippets of upcoming chapters. Interested? (said in my very best Rumple voice)... Haha, please follow icingsfanfic if you are ( /icingsfanfic)**_

_**Now, I cannot say enough how overwhelmed I was by the response to the last chapter. Oh, my, Oncers, the number of smiles you've given me over the last month are innumerable. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Every review or message I get makes me want to write more... I am being entirely honest when I say you inspire me. This fandom is incredible!**_

_**Now Q&A time: **_

From WolfieRed23:

Will the curse weaken enough on Snow that Mary starts to remember during the day? Or is Mary stuck dreaming her Snow's memories and forgetting them when she wakes up?

_**And: **_

Also, will Mary be able to remember the dreams? Another thing. Will Snow/Mika be able to have more control over Mary's body as the curse weakens?

_**SPOILER ALERT! Haha, no I'm just kidding. These are details that I am going to keep for myself right now... I suppose I could just publish my story outline and tell you all what's going to happen in advance, but where is the fun in that? **_

_**The one thing I will tell you, Freedom Love is not going to come to a standstill for us to have a few chapters of wonderful fluffiness for the next little bit (though I admit, the fluffiness is fun!). This story is going to keep progressing, and it's going to progress FAST for the next few chapters. There is a lot about to happen, and I cannot wait to show it to you. Make of that what you will! **_

From SnowandJames4eva:

Does David have a part of Charming in him that just hasn't come out yet...?

_**Charming's not gone. He's just not showing up in the same way Snow is. And there's a reason for that. All I'm going to tell you on that. **_

From OncerSwarekJateBazeGirlscout 22:

Can I punch Kathryn?

_**You can want to, haha, especially now. But I must speak on her behalf. She IS one of the good guys. She's trying to keep James and Snow safe. But her methods? Kind of suck. Abigail/Kathryn is the type to act first and think - or regret - later. And what she's doing now is something anyone would come to regret. **_

_**Last but not least, thank yous to all of you who reassured me that I was not the only one who flailed everywhere over Josh's arms. I have decided that the writers of Once Upon a Time truly love us all, to have given us both that beautiful scene, and for making Charming keep punching people lately. All of it's just a beautiful, wonderful, filled with amazing arms thing. **_

_**Let me know what you all think of this chapter. I know it's a departure from our happy little fluff land, but it's what needed to happen for the story. And don't lose faith. Remember what Rumplestilskin told us in the 'Abigail' chapter... nothing and no one can stop true love. **_

_**Thanks, as always, for reading. **_


	16. Forgotten Fruit

**_Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Alessandra, Aubrey, Lorena, Chelsea, and all the rest of my twitter followers at icingsfanfic. It's been a long time between updates, I know, but these guys got me through it. Talking to you all the last couple of months has been like having a personal squad of very enthusiastic cheerleaders, and I adore every one of you for it. You got me through writer's block, self doubt, and even a give up and restart on this chapter, simply by loving Freedom Love the way I know but still can't quite believe you all do. If this chapter is any good at all, it's because you guys made me believe in it. Thank you, thank you, thank you. _  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen: Forgotten Fruit <strong>

Even lovestruck, Mary Margaret Blanchard does her job, and she does it well.

Given that the class had last week's break through on understanding long division, she's moved them on to more difficult problems, three digit numbers divided by two digit, and by the frustration writ large on many young faces, she can see that it's going to be a problem.

She knows well the frustration of something being made more complicated just as it finally started to make some kind of sense, and she makes a note in her lesson planner to ensure that she runs math class after morning recess for at least the rest of this week.

Making fifth graders attempt long division first thing in the morning is a kind of evil she just doesn't have in her.

Having handed out worksheets to all the students after teaching the lesson, she takes pity on them and their generally horrified young faces, and asks that they try and work out some of the problems with the person beside them.

She figures that the idea that anything is less scary when there's another person right there doing it with you rings true for any age, and indeed, the class seems to be slightly more comfortable as a group as they break into pairs.

She tries not to look too excited when, after about twenty minutes, Henry and the girl next to him, Amber, successfully complete their first three problems.

"That's how you do it?" Henry asks, adorably suspicious, as though he's still half sure she's just making all this up. (It's an improvement, though, because she's pretty sure that the rest of the class is still entirely positive that she's just making it all up).

"That's how you do it," she nods, quietly at first, then putting on her 'teacher voice', continues for the rest of the class. "Amber and Henry have figured it out, class, so they would be a good resource to ask for help if you need it. Sometimes it's better to get it explained to you by one of your peers rather than your teacher."

Most of her students barely glance up, still staring at their own pages, stubborn and determined to get it right themselves, but the pair working on Henry's other side, two girls, lean over and ask for his help.

She wonders who she's prouder of. And she realizes she can't decide.

Every child learns differently, she's always believed that. The good thing, the amazing thing about this class, this group of students is that they are all open to learning, wide eyed and curious. They all want to learn, every last one of them, and she feels like it's probably a rare thing for a teacher to get this lucky.

Yes, she does her job, and she does it well, and in the process she does her very best to keep constrained the giant, beaming smile that keeps threatening to break loose on her face.

She's pretty sure she fails mightily on that account.

She's just so damn happy. She feels overcome by a joy that consumed her; one that almost seems too big to be restrained, as though it needs to be shared with every single other person who had ever lived. She'd never known such a profound sense of happiness was even possible, let alone experienced it herself.

This, she knows, is love. A passion and a joy so intense, so desperate, it almost hurt, but there is an unquestionable pleasure in the pain.

She needs him. More than anything or anyone else in her life, she needs him, she knows this now.

And knowing it, accepting and embracing it, has given everything else in her life better. Even now, as she looks around her classroom, at her students reacting to the lunch bell freeing them from math class in the same way a long-term prisoner would respond to being released from jail, everything just seemed to glow.

_You really need to let me know what's going on,_ the voice in her head murmured, without the warning that had long ago ceased being necessary. Mika's voice was frustrated, but warmly so, like someone who had been told something wonderful was soon going to happen, but it was a surprise.

_Whatever do you mean? _Mary asked, teasing, very much in the mood to play.

_That! You! This joy you've been exuding all morning. It's even influencing me, everything's gone all... shiny. I don't do shiny! Ergo, by rights, I get to know what's going on. _

Biting her lower lip, Mary wondered about that. It seemed... new... that Mika would be so impacted by her emotions. She'd come to kind of consider herself as something separate from Mika (even though Mika clearly could not be separated from her own self in the same way), but maybe the lines that she'd thought were there were continuing to blur. And if that was the case for her emotions, perhaps it could be the same for her thoughts, or even, her memories.

Alone in the classroom after her students had run for the cafeteria en mass, Mary decided there was no time better than the present for a little experiment.

She focused her mind, her every thought, on how much she trusted Mika, on how she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had nothing to fear from the voice in her head, the impossible being who had somehow become a friend.

And with that, she removed the block, and opened up her mind.

* * *

><p>"<em>And when it comes down to it..." <em>

"_We will die for him." _

"_Because I'm in love with you, you idiot!" _

"_Because you know, you have to know, that I love you too." _

"_Be good." _

"_Just us, baby." _

"_We're gonna need all night." _

"_Have a good day. I love you." _

"_I love you too. More than anything."_

Mika's reaction was quick, almost pained. _Mary,_ she breathed, _what are you doing? _

_Is it working? _

_You're doing this on purpose? Mare I can... see. Everything. David. The way he's looking at you... such love. This isn't a dream. Gods, this is a memory. You're showing me your memory? This happened? This is happening? How can this even be possible? Gods, Mare. _

Trying hard to block out the shock that it was working, that sharing her mind with Mika in such a complete way was now actually possible, Mary intensified her effort to show Mika everything that had happened late in the night.

Not that focusing her entire attention on the memory of David telling her he loved her was any kind of hardship, or anything.

She allowed the feeling of it - the sheer joy that the moment had been - to colour the memory, flavour it, so that Mika could gain a sense of what it had felt like for her.

_I feel it, Mare. You're so happy. Love has made you radiant, even from within. I feel it too... it feels so like it did - does - for me. I want that. I want this for you, with you. _

_Does it hurt? _Mary asked, suddenly afraid she was pushing too much, way too fast.

_No. It feels like coming home. _

_How can that be? _

_Mary, for years I didn't feel at all. I was barely real, less than a ghost, less than a shadow. And then you found David, and everything changed. I get to feel again because of you. Being able to feel what you feel for him, it's the closest thing I've got right now to being with my love. And that, that's so beautiful to me. It makes me happy. Not like you feel happy now, not that wonderful incandescent joy you're experiencing. But more of a... a warmth. It feels right, like home should feel. And that is better, that is more than anything I could have asked for. _

_I don't even know what to say to that Meek. _

_You and I are part of each other, Mare. I can't separate myself from you the way that I used to be able to, especially now that you can do this. I hear what you want me to hear, now I can see what you want me to see, and it seems as though I can feel whatever you're feeling when it's strong enough. It's not... it's not as hard as you'd think it would be, as maybe it should be. I'm trapped, but I still feel like me, still feel alive, because you've let me. _

_But... _

_But nothing. Really. We've been through this before. Maybe it should hurt, seeing you with David like this, but it doesn't. _David _is not mine, Mare. David is yours. And the two of you being together allows me to feel closer to the one I love. It's _good_ for me, Mare. The two of you together is good for me. _You_ are good for me. _

Mary fought tears even through her smile. _You're good for me too, Mika. So good. It makes no sense that this should be the case, but you've made things better. You've given me a strength that I've never had before. I need that. I need you. And I'm so glad you're here. _

_Not bad for a voice in your head? _

_Forget voice in my head. It's not enough, to describe what you are to me, what you've become. You're my friend, my sister. _

_Love you, Mare. _

_Love you too. _

Mary laughed, giddy, feeling warm all over. _Funny how those three little words can feel so different depending on who you're saying them to? _

_Different... but still so good. It doesn't matter what form it comes in. Ours is weird. _

Mary snorted laughter in agreement.

_Weird, but whatever _Mika continued. _It's there, and it's ours, and that's what matters. _

_I always wanted a sister. _

_Me too, Mare. Oh, man, me too. _

_And now we've got one. _

_We've got one. The weird is worth it to have that. _

_So worth it, _Mary thought, the words a whisper even within her own head. She wiped her tears away as the bell rung, signifying the end to the lunch hour, and letting her know that her students would soon be charging back in, hopefully re-energized by the break.

_Talk to you after school? _Mary asked, unnecessarily really, but wanting the confirmation after the emotionally charged conversation they had just had.

_Of course. I need to know more about that dream you just barely showed me the details of. _

_Crap. _

_You didn't think I'd let you off that easily? _

_Never. You and David are the same that way. My man and my girl. Neither of you let me get away with anything. _

Mika giggled. _That's wonderful. David and I can bond over our mutual love for you AND our shared ability to drive you crazy. _

_I don't think it bodes well for me that you're as proud of that as you are. _

_Oh, definitely not. You're screwed, Blanchard. After school. _

With an internal sigh, Mary turned to look at the children starting to stream back in through her classroom door.

_Yes ma'am. I will submit to my interrogation then. Now shush. _

* * *

><p>Henry Mills was glad for the day to end. No disrespect at all to his teacher, who happened to be one of his most favourite people, but even she couldn't make long division fun.<p>

The afternoon had been better though, he had to give Mary that. She'd backed away from math, telling them that they'd worked hard enough in the morning. She promised that math class would be held between morning recess and lunch break for the rest of the week, and only then. Even if the class struggled with it that day, the lunch bell would always end math class.

Henry really couldn't decide if it was better or worse to know when the torture was coming. He may have been one of the lucky ones who managed to figure out a couple of the questions they'd been assigned that day, but who knew what fresh horror was coming tomorrow? Three digit long division? He shuddered at the thought. And pitied his classmates deeply. At least he had shown some kind of proficiency at the two digit problems. The rest of them were doomed, surely.

Math always got worse as time went on.

Making his way down the main stretch of town, he headed towards the sheriff's station. He thought of it as his mom's, truly, but he knew that Emma still had a hard time thinking of it as her own, and for her, forced himself to call it the sheriff's station even in his own thoughts.

In time, he was pretty sure that she would come to embrace who she was now, and everything that came with it. She was getting closer, after all. She hadn't freaked out over his slip-up in calling her 'Mom', and that was a big step forward. A great step forward.

Okay, so he was thrilled by the whole thing, whatever.

He was totally going to play it cool though, he'd decided. He was pretty sure that if he hadn't scared her off by calling her Mom, he wasn't going to scare her off by being happy that she wasn't scared off, but he wasn't going to take the chance, just in case.

Waltzing into the main room of the station like he owned the place, he dumped his school bag on the nearest chair, then turned to the desk Emma sat at. His mother had looked up, startled, but he could see the surprise fade into a growing smile.

"Hey kid!" she greeted cheerfully.

He felt his own face split into a beaming grin, overcome, as ever, by the thrill of simply being near his birth mother.

"Hi Mom!"

So there went that plan, then.

To his delighted surprise, Emma's smile didn't disappear, or even fade. If anything, he thought it turned warmer, softer somehow, and he thought that this was even better than the other night had been. He was awake. There was no possibility of this being a half remembered dream. This was real.

She was his Mom, and she was okay with that. More than okay, maybe, hopefully.

Emma glanced down, away from making eye contact with him, but Henry had long ago accepted that as a signifier that Emma was struggling with rather profound emotions that she didn't know how to handle.

He could deal with that.

She looked back up at him quicker than he'd expected, and the eyes that connected with his own were calm. Amusement played on her face, as her lips quirked with the effort of hiding a smile.

"When did I become Mom, kid?"

"The day I was born," he told her, matter of factly. "You didn't lose the name just because you let me go. You earned it, forever, because you gave me my best chance, and that's what moms do."

Her face had paled slightly, maybe, and her jaw had gone slack with disbelief; but the eyes that watered before him now did not break contact with his own. Henry sucked in a breath.

She wasn't running. She wasn't ever going to.

She would never leave him.

Swallowing, Emma stood up and took the few steps forward to pull her son into a hug. She seemed to hold on longer, and far tighter than was normal for her.

Henry wasn't going to complain.

Finally pulling back from the embrace enough so she could see her son's face, but not so much that he was no longer in her arms, Emma smiled, shakily but real. "I'm not so sure how much I agree with that, kid. I haven't been your Mom for ten years. But if you want me, I'm ready to try my very best at being your Mom now."

He beamed up at her, more thrilled than he could ever remember being. He was reasonably sure that this was probably the best moment of his life so far, but she didn't need to know that yet. Best to let her get used to the whole 'Mom' thing before telling her she was pretty much the best thing to have ever happened to him, he figured.

Still, though. He could give her a hint.

"I'm always going to want you, Mom."

"I'll remind you of that when you're seventeen and hate everything I do and say," Emma drawled; as ever doing her best to cover her real emotions with sarcasm.

He'd always felt good at reading between the lines.

"You're still gonna be there when I'm seventeen, so that works for me."

Emma shook her head at him, but didn't even attempt to hide her smile. "Okay, come on, Henry. Let's get out of here. Hang out at my place for a bit before we risk Regina sending out a search squad."

"You can leave just like that?"

"I'm the sheriff, kid. What I say goes. And I say, I was only doing paperwork and I'd rather spend some time with my kid. If anything happens that I need to know about or handle, the dispatcher will send the call through to my phone."

He rewarded his mother with a grin. "Sounds good to me, Mom!"

"Well then. Lead the way, kiddo."

* * *

><p>Mary stayed at the school longer after the final bell rang than she usually would have. It was routine for her to stay behind about an hour after her final class, reviewing her lesson plan for the next day, making any pertinent notes on what had happened that day. That much was not unusual, but on this day, she stayed behind even once that task was completed.<p>

She'd always appreciated the quiet of a school once its students had departed for the day. Such a sharp contrast to the noise, the chaos of the day's activity.

The difference appealed to her. She adored her students, loved teaching them, loved watching them learn, but she would always enjoy the moments after the classroom had emptied for the day, the split second within which the din silenced.

The quiet was good when you needed to think, she figured, as she sat back and gazed out through the window. And great for important conversations.

Verbal or otherwise.

_Hey. You waiting for me? _Mika asked in a quiet murmur, still making the effort not to startle her friend. The sentiment was appreciated, though no longer needed. Mary had long ago come to meld with Mika enough that her vocalization no longer surprised her.

She could feel her coming now.

_Hi Meek. _

_Interesting choice for a nickname. Slightly ironic, yes?_

Mary snorted. _Indeed. Nicknames must always be that literal. And also, I'm a female horse. _

_Point taken. _

_Your name shortens nicely to it. And it is kind of funny, me calling you Meek when you're the one who pulled that particular quality out of me. You made me strong. So if you don't like it..._

_No. There's something fun about it, the irony. I'll keep Meek, locked up inside, if you keep that strength outwardly. _

_With your help, I can do that. _

_Protector of the Meek. I like it. Makes me feel important. _

Mary laughed out loud. _You are absurd. _

_So, not important then? _

_No. Important isn't strong enough a word. Crucial. You have no real idea of how much I've come to depend on you, do you? Mika, lately, I just don't know what I'd have done without you. _

_To be fair, I've been the one causing a lot of your problems. _

_No. It's not like that, not anymore, Mika. At first, yeah, I was terrified of you. But now? You're... you are still largely a mystery to me, don't get me wrong. One that I hope I can figure out soon, so that I can help you. But the source of my problems? God no. Get that thought out of my head, because I don't like it in here. _

_But you can't really think that I'm blameless..._

_I can, and I do. I've been falling in love with David, and dealing with Kathryn, and trying to figure out this whole situation that has been hard and confusing for _both _of us. You know I feel the way you hurt too. You've been in agony at times, and I haven't figured out a way to make things better for you. I'm the one in control, and I haven't fixed it for either one of us, and that's something I have to deal with. So don't put this all on you, okay? We're in this together... more than any two individuals anywhere have ever been in something together, really. _

_I've made a mess of your life... _

_Unwillingly, Mika! You're trapped up in my head, and as long as you're there, I've deprived you the chance at your own life, with whoever it is you think might be buried in David. _

_And that's your fault? _Mika exclaimed sarcastically, frustration coming through clearly.

_As much as it is yours, Meek. As in, not at all. Neither one of us are at fault here. This whole situation is weird, and it's not making much sense for me yet, but I know it's every bit as hard for you as it is me. I've _felt_ you fighting whatever it is that blocks you from telling me everything, remember? I know you'd tell me if you could, I know that you've dropped hints, I know that we're getting closer. And that's because you've helped me. You know how much better I feel since telling David? _You_ are the one who told me that I could; that we could trust him. I wouldn't have taken that leap of faith without you. I probably wouldn't be with David without you, encouraging me, making me brave. You did that. You've made my life better in that way. You've made my life better in a lot of ways. You want to convince yourself that you've made this huge mess of my life, but I'm with David, and I'm living with Emma, and us and Henry have become this weird sort of almost family, and then I've got you, the sister I always wanted but never had. Mika, I am happier now. _

_Happier? _

_In a way I don't think I've ever been before. I don't think I was ever really happy until now, because I didn't know it could feel like this. So pure, so all-consuming, so life affirming. Even you can feel it now, that should tell you something! _

_It does. _

_So that should... wait. It does? _

Mika giggled, and the feel of it soothed Mary, relaxed her. She felt her shoulders slump as the tension that had gotten her back up drained out. Concern lessened for the moment, she found herself able to focus on something that wasn't going on within her own head for the first time in probably too many minutes, and noted with pleasure that two bluebirds had made themselves comfortable at the birdhouse hanging just outside her classroom window.

Bluebirds were beautiful, she'd always thought that. She knew it was an unusual choice for a favourite animal - most people seemed to go for the more exotic, the strong mysterious and captivating creatures seen only on television (Storybrooke had never had a zoo) - but she adored bluebirds for their loyalty. Once they had found a home, they kept it.

_Mare? _Mika started, and Mary was pulled to distraction. Mika's internal voice didn't sound right, quavering and seemingly frightened.

_Meek? You okay? _

_What were you thinking about just now? _

_There's a couple of bluebirds at the birdhouse outside the window here. I was just looking at them, watching them fly around, and thinking about what beautiful creatures they are. _

Mika did not seem reassured by this. If anything, Mary could feel panic emoting from her, and Mary had long ago figured out that Mika only got like this for two reasons: Emma, or something changing.

The Emma option was kind of out for the moment.

_Mika? What's going on? _

_The bigger one, its feathers are a slightly darker blue than the other one's? _

Mary froze. _Yes. Why is your voice like that? You've always been able to sense what's going on around me..._

_No... this isn't like that. That sense, it was vague, it was an impression. This is new. I can _see_ it, _Mika replied, her inner voice scarcely more than a whisper, but the words seemed to echo through Mary's mind anyway.

_What? _Mary asked flatly.

_It's not... it's not like I've suddenly got control over your eyes or anything. Obviously I don't, you've got control. But... it's always been that I could just barely sense what was going on around you. I processed it once you did, second hand. I'd get the image in your head, which meant I'd think it, not see it. _

_And now? _

_It's like I somehow got a direct link to your eyes. I can see. It's not faded, not muted like it would have been if you were just feeding the image to me like normal. It's vibrant. It's real. I can _see_, Mare. _

Mary could feel her hands shaking, but swallowed, trying not to get too overwhelmed. She strongly sensed it would terrify Mika if she were to lose control now, risk handing control over to her when she was so unprepared for it.

_My other senses, taste, touch... were they all the same way for you? You got like a feedback report once my brain had processed what its senses were telling it? _

_That's a good way of wording it. You're starting to understand better than even I do. Yes. That's the way it is for everything. _

_Okay, _Mary thought, unsure if it was to herself or to Mika. _Okay. _She walked the extra step forward towards the window, and opened it quickly. The sound of the birds chirping made her smile even under these circumstances. It was peaceful, she thought.

She stepped back, closed her eyes, blocking out sight to focus on her hearing. And waited.

_One of them's a male,_ Mika murmured. _It's holding the song longer than the other one, which is a female. They're content. They like the birdhouse. I imagine they'll stay awhile. _

_You can hear? _

_I can hear. _

_Mika, what is going on? _

_I don't know. _

* * *

><p>Out of sheer curiosity, and the urge to <em>do something<em>, Mary had taken herself and Mika into various rooms of the school. A kindergarten classroom, to pet the gerbil that served as class pet to the excited little ones.

Mika could feel it, the softness of its fur, the nibble of its teeth as it attempted to bite at Mary's fingers.

She wandered into the gymnasium's locker room.

Mika could smell it, the dank, sour odor that stuck, ubiquitous, in every locker room there had ever been.

She was quick to encourage their leave of that particular field trip.

Mary ended their adventure by heading into the staff room to grab a cup of remarkably bad coffee. Nodding to the few other teachers who remained, she left again for her own classroom quickly, coffee mug in hand.

She needed to be left alone when working her way through something like this.

Once securely back in her classroom, she took a small sip of the drink.

Terrible. But no response from Mika.

She closed her eyes, focused, took another sip.

_Ugh, that is awful! God, Mare, can we stop with the torture trip now? All my senses are clearly working... or I have access to yours anyway... we don't have to come up with gross things to test them. _

_Then why'd you only react to the second sip? _

Caught off guard, Mika cut herself off from starting a rant about the outrage that was poor quality coffee.

_Um, _Mika thought about it. _I don't... I didn't really taste the first sip, Mare. Now that I think about it, I could tell you didn't like it, that it wasn't good coffee, but I couldn't taste it until the second sip. Why... what did you do differently for the second sip from the first? _

_The first sip was casual. I did it without thinking. Took a sip just because the drink was there. The second sip I put my attention on. Closed my eyes, tried to focus on the taste of it, unfortunately poor though it was. _

_So I'm not getting everything... just when you're unusually focused on something, it like throws me into the sentient experience of it with you? _

_Hell if I know. It seems that way though, I guess, doesn't it? _

_You're able to open your mind to me now, _Mika supposed. _You opened up to show me the memory of you and David. Maybe you broke something, a barrier that was there between us before. We're more connected, I'm more a part of you than I was before, so more is getting through to me now. _

_Makes sense. _

_How were you able to show me that memory? _

_I don't know, Meek. I just tried to? I focused my attention on how much I trusted you, how much I wanted you to know, to see, to feel what had happened between me and David. I wanted to share with you, and so somehow I could. _

_Did you feel anything when you did? You broke through a barrier we hadn't been able to before, surely you felt something? _

_Not really. I didn't know it had worked until you started questioning it, remember? I just tried to open my mind up to you, and it happened. Once I knew I'd opened up, I focused on what I wanted to show you, and... _

_And it worked. I got the memory as if it were my own. _

_Yes. _

_Had you ever tried anything like that before? _

_No. But I had no reason to. Nothing had ever happened that you weren't conscious for, there wasn't anything I would have needed to show you. You've always been there, seeing and hearing as I did... or at least I'd always thought it was that way for you? _

_Not... not like you do. It's like... you know how it is when you remember something that happened to you? You might remember every last detail of it, but it's not like it was when it was actually happening. As near perfect as a memory might be, it's not the real thing. It can't be. The human mind is good, but not that good. Memory is always faded in comparison to what the reality of it was. That's what it's usually like for me. I get the images, I experience what you do, but only once it has filtered through you. It's almost instantaneous, but instantaneous isn't live, true experience. I'm there when you're talking to someone, and I know what you're saying to them, I can even comment, and it's so quick that you don't even notice that it takes me just a second longer than it does you. _

_It's just slightly delayed? _

_Yeah. And muted, and faded, because for you, it's already memory. It's only a split second, but it's enough, because it's already happened and in the past for you by the time it's getting through for me. _

_And now, suddenly, it's like you've tuned in to the live feed? _

_Again with the just getting it Mare. I know I'm not doing a good job of explaining it, but you're getting it anyway. Exactly, Mary. _

_I think I'm more tuned in to you right now for some reason. It's like I can feel the gist of what you're trying to say. Even more than what you're actually saying, I'm getting what you want to say but maybe can't quite find the words for. _

_You... you're getting more than what I'm actually saying? _

_Yes. Not quite what you're thinking, I'm not getting words. It's... not something I can easily explain. It's more, maybe, the tenor of it? It's vague, but it's enough to help me understand. _

Mika was quiet for several long moments before replying.

_I think that this is all happening too quickly. Things have been progressing with us, no question. We've been connecting way more, becoming really deeply tied together but this is just... all at once like this? You can share your thoughts and memories if you want to? I'm gaining live access to your senses? You can understand what I'm not saying? Something has always happened every time we had a change like this before, there's always a catalyst for it. What the hell happened to cause all of this? _

Mary stopped for a second, really thought about it. The answer came to her quickly, so obvious she wondered how she hadn't realized it immediately.

_The dream,_ she breathed.

For a moment, Mika didn't say anything, but Mary could feel her wordless worry.

_You need to tell me everything that happened in this dream, Mare. _

Mary took a deep breath. _It was awful, Meek. I'd really hoped I could just block it out, forget about it. _

Mika's voice was exceedingly gentle when she replied. _You know you have to, Mare. I wish you could forget, and I'd let you try, but honey, not if it's causing this. It's too big. Tell me about it. _

_I um... _Mary swallowed, steeling herself, and then finished the thought. _I could show you it? _

_No. _Mika replied firmly. _It's one thing to not let you forget it. I'm not going to force you to relive something that clearly terrified you. Just tell me what happened. _

_It was like I was back in the Middle Ages, _Mary starts slowly, thinking it through. _The room I was in, it was all stone, mostly devoid of furniture, cold... like an ancient castle. We were in war time. _

_We? _

_Everyone. The land had been ravaged. It was a battle of that base question of human nature, good versus evil, and both sides had sustained heavy losses. But we... we'd lost him. He'd been taken from us. As leverage, as revenge, I don't know what. But I was desperate to get him back. _

_You think that David was the he? _

_Yes. No one else would have mattered like that, because I was so desperate. I was plotting his rescue, talking it over with someone. I couldn't see them, but I knew they were on my side... they were as desperate as I was to save him. And then I turned to this really ornate mirror, and I said, "When it comes down to it," and then my reflection replied "We will die for him." And then I woke up screaming, it took ages for Emma and David to get me to calm down. _

_You and David talked it over, figured that the reflection in the dream was me? _

_It makes sense. My unconscious mind trying to figure all of this out. And it would explain why everything's suddenly progressed so much with us now conscious. With me having visualized you as such a part of me, it seems to have opened things up between the two of us. _

_But we were speaking out loud in the dream? _

_We were. It was not the thought-speak we usually use. We were both speaking out loud. _

_And when your reflection spoke - assuming it was me - I wasn't really a reflection anymore? _

_But a being of your own. Still trapped in the mirror, yes, but you had a mind of your own, a body of your own, just one that was identical to mine. I wasn't speaking, my lips weren't moving. "We will die for him" was all you. _

_But this break in the unity of you and me, it didn't happen until you saw me talking? Until then, I was... _

_My reflection. Exactly as it should be, exactly as it would be if I went and looked into any mirror now - my face staring back at me, perfectly normal. _

_I wonder why such a change with me saying that one thing... I mean, not that speaking of being willing to die isn't shocking enough to cause it but... _

_To be fair, I hadn't been looking at the mirror in the dream until then. Perhaps you were never really my reflection, I just didn't see that until I turned to the mirror? _

_But when you turned to the mirror, your reflection turned too? _

Mary sighed, confused and frustrated. _Yeah. Nothing out of the ordinary, until the very end. _

_When I started acting and speaking of my own free will. _

_We were on the same train of thought, Meek. You were finishing my sentence. _

_Still. _

_Should I not have told you all this? Mika, I can tell you're having the hard time with the idea of you... _

_Having a body of my own? Mare, I was still trapped, one way or the other. Trapped in a mirror as a reflection, it's not any better than being stuck in a corner of your head. Hell, it sounds worse. A nightmare. _

_Maybe it was one? I mean, obviously it was for me, but for you too? _

_I didn't experience this dream at all, Mare. This was all yours. And I don't know, maybe it means something that you dreamt of me first as a relatively normal extension of you - your reflection - and then as an abnormal, but separate being. Maybe it means something that I was still trapped anyway. Maybe it means nothing at all, I don't know anymore. _

_It can't mean nothing. Not when it's done all this, not when it's given us more access to each other! _

_We don't even know for sure that the dream is what did it! _

_I'm open to other suggestions. But from where I'm standing, when I went to bed, none of this had happened, I wake up and it's like we'd taken a wrecking ball to some imaginary barrier in my head! _

_Maybe it was what came out of the dream! David has caused progress between you and I in the past, hell, it was you falling for him, allowing me closer to my love, that first really caused me to wake up. You and David told each other you love each other, maybe that opened your mind up further for me somehow! _

_How exactly would that work? These new changes are about you and me, not David. I already knew David and I loved each other, even if we hadn't said it yet. For something to have changed within my own head like this, you'd think it would be caused by something brand new to me. And even if it were because of us sharing our love for each other, you weren't even conscious for any of that! What was with that anyway? It was like you weren't there! _

_I don't leave, Mare. There's no where for me to go. I was there, just not conscious. You know that I sleep too. _

_But is it not strange that you didn't wake with me? _

_I don't think so. Your sleep cycle was broken suddenly by a dream you startled awake from. I didn't share the dream with you, so there was nothing to wake me up. _

_It just seems odd in retrospect. Ever since you were first able to communicate with me, I've never been awake without you. And I dream a lot, always have. You'd think that if I were waking up in the night with dreams all the time, I'd have felt that... loss before. _

_Loss? _

_A hole where you're supposed to be. I think when I was talking to David about the dream I said that I could feel your presence, but not your energy. That's... not quite it. When you're awake, I can sense you, feel you. You're something solid, something warm and reassuring, something _real_ to me. And when you didn't wake up, I couldn't feel that. I knew you hadn't disappeared, I knew you were there, I knew you just weren't conscious... but damn it Mika, I was terrified, and I needed you, and I'm sitting there in David's arms, feeling around my own head for you, and I don't understand how you weren't there! You exist within the same space the dream did, how could it not have impacted you? _

Mika's voice was tiny when she finally replied. _I don't know Mare. I don't understand anymore than you do, but I am so sorry I failed you. _

_Don't. _

_Don't what? _

_Make this into a failure on your part. You were asleep, I just don't understand why or how, but that's not your fault. I'm not blaming you, I shouldn't have let it sound that way. I don't understand any of this. And it's ridiculous of me to keep expecting you to have all the answers when... _

_I don't. Which _is_ unfair to you. But Mare, this time, it's not that I know something that I can't tell you. I really don't have an answer at all. I don't know. And that is as frustrating for me as it is for you. _

_I know Meek. It's okay. Maybe we can work through this together. Do you remember if you were dreaming anything last night? _

It was times like these that Mika really, really missed having control over eyes to roll. The moment seemed to require such a gesture, and for a split second she tried to seize control over her friend's eyes just so she could (there'd been enough sudden changes this day, she figured, for it to be worth a shot to see if she could grab control just because she felt like it), but unfortunately for her, Mary just stayed patiently waiting for an answer, no eye-rolling to be found.

If the disappointment that she truly knew she had no right to feel made her voice lower to a growl, she was pretty sure that wasn't really her fault.

_No. Yes. Gods Mare, I don't know, probably? I dream, you know I do. All the time, every night, when we go to sleep, I dream, I remember a life that I can't explain to you. Every single last night, I end up dreaming of him, so I can't imagine that last night was any different. _

_Have you ever experienced any of my dreams? _

_I don't... I don't think so? _

Mary proceeded calmly, conversationally, as though this was an easy topic of conversation, when they both knew it was not. _I've had nightmares ever since I can remember. Abstract, confusing a lot of the time you know? Like the dream is more about feeling than actual image, but somehow still terrifying. I'll dream of being trapped, of being lost, of chasing something that no matter how hard I try, I can never find it. You ever get those dreams? _

Weak with a horror Mary could not possibly understand, Mika's voice was only a whisper in Mary's head.

_Yes... of course. _

_So maybe we share dreams more than we'd even thought. We know that sometimes I get your dreams, so maybe you get mine too... _

_Unless you've just always been getting mine, Mare. _

Mary froze. _Wait... what? No, that's not right... I've been... Mika, I've been having these dreams since long before I even knew you existed. _

_But I was always there. Weak, barely existing, not able to communicate with you, but always, always there; a slight, flickering presence within you. _

_How can you know the dreams are going from you to me? Maybe they're from me to you? _

_They're not. _

_How can you know? _

_Because all this time you've been dreaming my memories, Mare. _

Mary's shock was such that her response escaped her verbally, though in a harsh, flat whisper. "What?"

_I can't... you know I can't tell you much. You don't seem to have gotten many details out of the dreams, just sensations and vague images. You've never known what the dreams mean, but I do, because I lived them, honey. _

_You... you're not lying to me right now? _

_No. I may keep secrets from you - unwillingly, but I do, but Mary, what I do tell you, I would never, ever lie to you. _

_When David stayed over right after he left Kathryn, that first night I spent in his arms. My dreams were pleasant. Beautiful. I was with David, always. We were married, and so in love, and so, so happy. And everything, every last object was just... ethereal. Stunning... _

_You knew you were dreaming, because the world you were seeing in the dream wasn't anything you had ever seen in real life, _couldn't _exist in real life. You know beauty when you see it, but you'd never seen anything like that before. That was something beyond extraordinary, something that could not possibly be real. _

"It was like magic," Mary whispered.

_It would have been, to you. _

_Still your memory? _

_Yes. _

_Mika... what on Earth have you not been telling me all this time? _

_So much, Mary. More than I have any right to keep from you. Please, please know that's not by choice. I'm amazed that I'm able to tell you even this much right now. We are so close, Mary, so freaking close. _

_Okay. Okay. So all my life, I've experienced your dreams, or your memories thinking that they were my own. But the dream I had last night, this dream, the one that seems to be changing everything... it somehow wasn't yours? Mika, you are basically telling me that this is the only dream I've ever had that was entirely mine, that has to mean something! _

_I agree. I don't understand this, at all. There has to be something more to it, that you had a dream of your own, that I was somehow blocked off from. I got nothing out of it. _Think_, Mare. Is there something, some tiny detail that you thought insignificant, that you didn't tell me? _

Without even really trying to, Mary flashed back to the dream. And having opened some door between the two of them that had previously been closed, Mika saw all of it.

_She was talking to someone she could not see, but that did not matter. She was on the side of good, and that did. She was a friend. And on this most important issue, they were in full agreement. _

"_Whatever it takes," she told the friend. "I don't care what I have to do, what I have to sacrifice. We save him. We keep him safe. He matters more than anything." _

"_We will find him," the friend agreed. "We will always find him." _

The dream continued to play back through Mary's mind, but Mika was no longer paying attention. As ever, the few little words that had meant so very much to herself and Charming had taken her to another place.

* * *

><p><em>He was infuriated, the one she'd now stolen from and assaulted - good thing she no longer cared about what crimes she had to commit to survive - and still slightly stunned, as she was easily able to make her escape on his own horse. "You can't hide from me!" he yelled behind her, "Wherever you are, I will find you!" <em>

_She couldn't resist turning back to flash him a taunting grin. 'Give it your best shot, buddy,' she thought. _

* * *

><p><em>The handsome, cocky, pain in her freaking ass stranger was laughing at her. "I told you I'd find you," he announced, delighted with himself. "No matter what you do, I will always find you." <em>

* * *

><p><em>He'd made his way into her heart without even trying, and even in the short time she'd spent with him, she wondered at how he could make her feel for the first time in so long. She didn't want to leave him, even though she wanted to want to, and she wondered if he could possibly feel the same way. "If you need, <em>anything_..." he'd started. _

"_You'll find me," she finished. _

"_Always." _

_The certainty in both of their voices scared her. _

* * *

><p><em>The stranger who had grabbed her suddenly kissed her like it was normal, like it was something she should want, like she belonged to him, and it terrified her. He pulled back, grinning at her. "I told you, I will always find you." <em>

_She knocked him out, wondering all the while why it should feel familiar to do so. _

* * *

><p><em>King George's army attacked, and she hated them like she had never hated anything in her life, and she had learned to hate a lot. 'No, no, no, not now, not when she had remembered, not when she had finally, finally felt what it was to really be kissed by him, not when she knew they both loved. <em>

_They'd thrown her to the ground, separating them, and they'd gotten him into a caged cart, if only because he was for once, weak, injured, and little more than helpless; and what little advantage he'd had, he'd used to protect her. _

_Trapped, she could do nothing but watch as the evil bastards took her love away from her, even as they screamed for each other. _

"_I will find you," she called, desperate. "I will always find you." _

* * *

><p><em>She stared at him through the mirror, miserable. "Is this always going to be our life? Taking turns finding each other?" <em>

_He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "We'll be together, I know it. Have faith." _

* * *

><p><em>He'd done it, somehow. She'd thought she'd be trapped forever in her own sleep, but he'd done it, he'd come through for her, as he always would, as he was always meant to. <em>

"_You... you found me," she breathed. _

_His joy was all-consuming, she could see it written all over his face. "Did you ever doubt I would?" _

"_Well you never have to worry. I will always find you." _

_She believed him. _

* * *

><p>The memories hurt, as they always did. She would forever marvel at how little time they'd actually had together. They had spent so very much of their life chasing each other around, each trying to save the other's ass.<p>

They were a true partnership, she knew, equals in every sense of the word. She'd never been the damsel who needed saving time and time again. They saved each other, countless times.

Too many times than was fair.

She knew they'd do it again, somehow, but damn if this one didn't constantly seem bleak and impossible.

It drove her to distraction. Mary was never at the forefront of her mind, when he was.

And so it did not immediately occur to her that the barrier that Mary had broken through to show her her memories, may have been impacted from both sides, until her friend, her sister, and her body went stiff.

"Mika," Mary gasped. "What the hell was that?"

* * *

><p>Unlocking the door, Emma let Henry run ahead of her into the apartment to greet Amy, and look around for Laci, who Emma suspected was actually asleep on her bed in the afternoon sun. Undaunted by the disappointment of not seeing the cat, Henry directed all his attention on enthusiastically petting the very willing participant Amy was.<p>

As always, Henry in all his youth and charm and easy happiness made her smile. Her son had been chattering at her excitedly the whole walk over, and she'd found herself unable to do anything but smile at him fondly, even now, as he went off onto a complaining rant about long division.

"I know it's not Mary's fault," he announced loyally. "There's things that the schools want us all to know how to do, and all she can do is teach them to us. But why does long division have to be one of them? Can't we all just use calculators like grown-ups do?"

Emma snorted. "I don't know, kid. They teach you that crap and don't bother to tell you that you'll never use it again once you reach high school."

"Seriously?"

"Yup."

"Then why bother?"

"I'm not the one to ask. Math was never really my thing. I was alright at word problems, but straight calculations, nope. I've never been good at anything I didn't see the point to."

"So you admit it! There's no point to long division!"

Emma winced. "Yeah, uh, don't tell Mare or your mother that I said that."

Henry grinned up at her wryly. "Do I still have to do my homework?"

"'Fraid so, kid. Eventually you want to get your high school diploma. Otherwise to be hearby known as the certificate of permission to just use a calculator for the rest of your life."

Henry laughed. "Man do I want that."

"Alright then. Get your books set up at the dining table. We'll see if I remember anything useful enough from my days at school to help you."

Grabbing his school bag so he could start spreading out his stuff, he looked up at her with wide puppy-dog eyes she was pretty sure he'd learned from the actual dog. "Can I have a snack?"

Glancing around the kitchen quickly, Emma's eyes land on the fruit bowl. "Sure, kid, you can have an apple. They're mine anyway, Mary doesn't like them."

Henry turns to face her, gaping and wide eyed and she wonders what exactly she said this time.

"Mary... doesn't like apples?"

"No. Why does that matter?"

Now Henry's giving her a look she would term as 'bitch please' if the person in question weren't her abnormally innocent ten year old son. "Snow White? The poison apple? Of course Mary doesn't like apples, one almost killed her!"

Right. The fairy tale thing. It had been a little while since Henry had brought that up - both of them distracted by the whole 'Mom' thing - and she'd dared to unconsciously hope that he was growing out of it. At any rate, she was still determined not to hurt him and his beliefs, but at the same time, not encourage him.

"Not liking apples makes someone Snow White?"

"No, being Snow White makes someone Snow White. Not liking apples is just proof. We have to tell her, Mom, she's remembering who she really is!"

"Kid, not liking apples is not a new thing for her. She told me that she's never liked them. There's no accounting for taste, some people just don't like good things."

Henry is nodding thoughtfully halfway through her explanation, and paying little attention to her further commentary. "She's never liked them, of course, she's always been Snow White without knowing it. Now how to explain the truth to her..."

Emma just laughs. "Okay, Henry. Math homework first. Operation Cobra second."

"But you will let me talk to her when she gets home?"

"You want to tell her that you think she's Snow White?"

"Well she already knows _that_, but I don't think she's ever really believed me. Now we have proof. Please can I explain it to her, Mom?"

Looking at Henry's pleading eyes, she wonders if she'll ever be able to say no to her son.

"Alright. If you get your homework done, we'll talk to Mary."

"Yes!" Henry cheers.

What could be the harm, Emma figures. She and Mary will surely have a good laugh about it after they send Henry home for dinner.

* * *

><p>Mary waits, desperately, begging Mika for answers without actually vocalizing anything. She knows, she's completely positive that Mika is getting the gist of her emotions anyway.<p>

Just as she is getting Mika's, and she knows that her friend is _terrified_, but she forcefully blocks out the guilt.

_What... what did you see? _

_Everything that you were just thinking about. You? With someone who looked just like David but wasn't him. Flashbacks. Memories. Finding him. It always comes back to finding him for you, doesn't it? _

_This doesn't make any sense, _Mika whispers. _You shouldn't have been able to see any of that, it should have stopped that. _

_Clearly I've broken through something, Meek! There's no barrier, no separation between us anymore. Nothing's stopping us from you telling me the truth, telling me everything! _

_No, it's not like that, Mary. I... I still can't tell you. _

_Can't, or don't want to? _

Hurt, Mika snaps. _Can't, you know that Mary! After everything that's happened between us today, everything we've shared, you freaking know me, you know that I'd tell you if I could. _

_How can't you? If you can just start leaking memories like that, how in the world is there still anything blocking us? Leak something else! _

_I'm trying! I am fighting as hard as I can right now, but I can't break through. It's like I'm tied up, Mare! I've been bound so tightly for so long, and it's getting better, we're progressing, but we're not there yet! I don't have control over what's happening right now any more than you do! _

_Who are you, Mika? Who is he? _

For a short few moments, Mika really tries. She tries to just say it, say the truth, but as ever, it's like she has gone mute. No matter how hard she tries - even attempting to visualize the wall that Mary had somehow broken a hole through - she cannot make the words filter through to Mary.

She gives up.

_We're two people in love, Mare. And I'm someone who is never going to give up on making my way back to him. _

_If you have been through all of that, all of this. So many obstacles... how can you not have given up? _

_We don't have it in us to. It's not possible to break the bond between us. It's even carried through to you and David, don't you see? _

_I don't... _

_We're supposed to be together, Mary. There is no explanation that I can give you more than that. We are so tied, so bound. We're one. There can be no one, nothing else for us but each other. _

_I've seen love, I've felt love, but that's not... I don't think I've seen anything like that before. _

_No, you wouldn't have. It's not supposed to be possible. For the longest time I didn't even believe in it. _

_Soulmates? _Mary asks in a whisper.

Mika sighs out half a laugh. _That's the closest thing anyone's been able to come up with to describe it in this world, Mare, but it's so much more than that. True love. Unbelievably rare, next to impossible, but it happened for me. _

_And this bond between you and him... it's extended to me and David? _

_It brought the two of you together, yes. But once it did, the two of you have come to a new love all your own. What you feel for David, that's not me, not mine. That's all yours. _

For the first time in some time, Mary smiles. _And that's enough. _

* * *

><p>Mary heads home, finally, lost in thought. All that had happened since she first woke up with the dream threatens to overwhelm her, and she thinks that she needs to see David, needs to talk to him. She finds herself overcome with relief that she has that, that she can talk to him about all of this, and internally thanks Mika for giving her the bravery to tell him.<p>

_That was all you, honey. Not me. I was just hanging out on the sidelines for it. _

Mika's voice is much quieter in her head than usual, and Mary knows that she too is completely stunned, reeling from all that has happened. She thinks that talking things out with David would do both of them some good, and as she comes to her apartment, she wonders if she could get away with forgoing dinner and just asking her love to come meet her for a walk.

That plan goes out the window for the moment when she walks through her front door to see Emma sitting with Henry at their dining table.

And she feels like a pretty horrible human being when, for the first time ever, she really wishes they weren't there, and wonders if she can just walk right back out of the apartment without seeming rude.

Probably not.

Emma watches her friend carefully as she comes in and hangs up her coat. She's immediately worried. Mary's movements are jerky and uncomfortable, and she's pretty sure that her hands are shaking, especially when she drops the coat just before she can get it hung up on the hook. She finally manages it, and turns around to face them, working a smile onto her face that Emma knows isn't remotely natural. Mary is pale, white as a ghost really, and her expression is obviously wary.

Something was terribly wrong, Emma figures, for Mary to come in looking that shaken, and she realizes with horror just a second too late, that while her son may be extraordinarily intuitive for his age, he's still an overly excited ten year old.

"Hi Mary!" Henry exclaims. "I've got so much I need to tell you!"

Emma reaches out a hand for her son even as he stands up. "Henry, maybe this isn't the right time..."

Mary takes a deep breath, both calming and steeling herself to play the ever patient schoolteacher the young boy knew her as. "Nonsense, Em. If Henry needs to tell me something..."

"You just got home, though, and you barely got any sleep last night, you must be exhausted. Maybe I should take Henry home, get us both out of your hair."

Emma can see in Mary's eyes how very much her friend likes that idea, even if she would never say so, but Henry barely looks over, dismissive in his excitement.

"It'll just take a few minutes, Mary! I just want to talk to you some more about the curse!"

Mary looks blank for a moment, and Emma realizes that if it had been awhile since Henry had brought it up with herself, it surely had been ages since Mary had heard any of his theories.

"The curse?"

"The curse that got rid of your real memories! I think that some of who you really are may be leaking back through!"

Emma really didn't like the look on Mary's face. Usually she'd have a gentle smile on her face by now, humoring Henry. But now, now she was staring at him as if she'd seen something she'd never noticed before.

"Leaking back through?" Mary asked, her voice terribly strained.

"Yes! You're Snow White! The poisoned apple, Mary! Emma told me you don't like apples and..."

Mary's frightened eyes immediately shoot to Emma, who threw her hands up in the air.

"I didn't tell him you had a dream, I just..."

Her kid suddenly looks like all of _his_ dreams had come true at once, and Emma wishes more than anything in the world that she could take that half sentence back.

"You had a dream?" Henry asks excitedly. "What was it about, maybe it was telling you something, you should tell me, I can help..."

Mary has gone somewhere else.

_She is standing in an open field that she suspects she isn't really in. She doesn't feel like she belongs here, doesn't feel like she actually _is_ there. The where doesn't matter anyway, the who the what and the why do. She is to bear witness to the confrontation between the two figures standing across the field, the one she wants desperately to protect, and the one she fears. _

_She walks closer, angling herself so that she can see the face of the one she wants to protect, and feels the world drop out from under her. _

_It's her. _

"_You're me," she whispers, so quiet she can barely hear it herself. _

_Only... it's not. Somewhere deep inside, she finds the bravery to walk closer, and she can see the differences. The hair is the most obvious one, jet black curls cascading down her back in a wild, impossible to control mass, a sharp contrast to her own pixie cut. There are other differences, subtle, less noticeable, but there, written across her features and in her piercing green eyes. This woman has steel in her, has hardened. Life had been unspeakably cruel to her, she had suffered terrible losses, but it all had made her braver, made her strong. This one was a fighter. _

_It's Mika, Mary realizes with a gasp that the other two women don't seem to hear, further confirming what she had suspected, that she's not really there. _

_They're arguing, though Mika seems to be at a disadvantage that she doesn't realize. Her anger is marred by guilt and regret, while the other woman's - Regina's, Mary suddenly realizes, stunned - is fueled by a murderous rage and hatred. _

_Mary tries to shout out a warning that Mika does not, cannot hear, as her eyes don't leave Regina's. _

"_But nothing can change what happened, what you did. You promised to keep my secret. You promised, but you lied," Regina accuses, voice breaking. _

"_I was very young, and your mother," Mika starts. _

"_She _ripped_ his heart out!" Regina screams. "Because of you! Because you couldn't listen to me!" _

"_You took my _father_," Mika replies, broken. "Haven't we both suffered enough?" _

"_No," Regina snaps, ending all argument, before pulling out and opening a satchel, and removing a shiny red apple from within it. _

"_Did you know apples stand for health and wisdom?" _

"_So why do I get the feeling that one might kill me?" _

"_It won't kill you," Regina responds sinisterly. "No, what it will do is far worse. Your body will be your tomb, and you'll be in there with nothing but dreams formed of your own regrets." _

"_And you're going to force me to eat it," Mika guesses flatly. _

_Regina laughs. "Of course not. It wouldn't work anyway. The choice is yours. It _must_ be taken willingly." _

"_And _why_ would I do that?" _

"_Because if you refuse the apple? Your prince? Your 'Charming'? Will be killed." _

_Regina seems to take a twisted pleasure in Mika's terror stricken face, gone pale with horror. _

_And suddenly, Mary knows exactly what Mika is going to do. "No," she whispers to someone who cannot hear her. _

_Mika unknowingly echos her perfectly in response to Regina. "No," she murmurs, broken. _

"_As I said, the choice is yours," Regina declares, delighted with the trap she'd set. _

"_I take that apple, and he lives? That's the deal you want to make?" _

"_With all my heart." _

"_No," Mary demands, crying, begging Mika to hear her. "No, don't! Don't eat the apple!" _

_It's easy to ignore someone you cannot hear. Mika's mind is plainly made up. _

_She would do _anything_ for him. _

"_Then congratulations. You've won." _

_She bites the apple, and Mary, screaming at the top of her lungs all the while feels herself being pulled back, out of the dream, even as she watches her sister fall to the ground, unconscious, to Regina's triumphant, evil smile. _

She keeps from screaming, barely. She's shaking, and only just managing to stay upright. She feels like she could collapse, hell, she feels like she could pass out, but she refuses to let that happen, refuses to terrify the young boy, still excitedly talking to her, having noticed nothing at all.

It dawns on her that though she feels like she had just lived an entire life, and died an entire death, she must have only been lost to the memory of the dream for a minute or two, not nearly long enough for Henry to notice that anything was wrong.

Emma on the other hand, used to such things from her, is staring at her as though she'd never seen her before.

She can't focus on that now. She wishes she could, she really, really does. Wishes she could act like everything is normal, humor Henry, joke with Emma, reassuring her in the process, and then head into the kitchen to get started on making them all some dinner.

Yeah, that would be what she'd do if everything was normal.

Nothing is normal now. And she's still stunned, frozen with shock, and apparently struck dumb for it, as she whispers, "I remember..."

* * *

><p>Mary staring into space, unseeing of anything and anyone around her is an all too familiar sight for Emma, but Henry had never seen it before, and as worried as Emma is for her friend, her son is her first priority and she wants to keep it that way. For now, Henry has noticed nothing anyway. He's too excited, giddy with the thought of one of his beloved fairy tale characters remembering, and is talking at Mary - definitely not with her - spewing out ideas at a rate it would be impossible to keep up with even if Mary were aware of it.<p>

The young boy has no idea anything is wrong with Mary.

Emma needs to keep it that way. For his sake, she has to. She will not let her son know the fear and panic that comes with watching someone lose all sense of who and where they are.

So she doesn't interrupt, doesn't stop him. She doesn't do anything for Mary, though the guilt of that causes such a sinking feeling in her stomach that she fears for a moment that she is going to be sick.

She wishes more than anything in that moment that she could just run forward and slap her friend clear across the face, bringing her back, but at the same time, she knows damn well that that much, Henry would notice and be terrified by.

So Emma stands back, does nothing. Rearranges her features into a calm, stoic mask for the few short moments when Henry glances back at her, grinning as though everything is just spiffy, and she guesses for him right now it is.

Mary is acting absurdly, even for her, and if she didn't know any better, she'd think her friend _was_ in the process of remembering something. Something unpleasant, traumatizing, she worries. If anything, Mary had gone even more pale than she already was, and Emma worries she may pass out. Fearing that Mary was terribly ill, Emma feels for her cell phone in her pocket, making sure she can grab it easily in case she needs to call for an ambulance, while at the same time trying to figure out how she would get Henry the hell out of there if it came to that.

Mary suddenly snaps out of it though in the middle of her contingency plans. She can tell that Mary is aware again, but still not at all okay. Her friend looks as though she is barely staying on her feet, swaying in place, and swearing under her breath, Emma suddenly finds herself wondering if she's fast enough to make it across the room to catch her before she would hit the ground.

She freezes in place just as she'd started over to Mary, when her friend suddenly whispers, "I remember..."

And Emma hates herself just a little bit when thinking back on it all later, as she realizes that her first response was to feel a terrified kind of hope that something impossible was real.

* * *

><p>"I remember..." Mary whispers, before snapping out of it just in time to see Henry gaping at her.<p>

"You... you remember?"

"The dream," Mary says, catching herself, and not daring to make eye contact with Emma. "It suddenly came back to me. We were just here in the apartment, and, um, I was concerned the fruit had gone off, so I didn't want Emma to eat it."

Henry visibly deflates with disappointment. "Oh," he sighs. "I had thought you remembered your real life."

Mary forces a smile to her face. "How about this, honey? I'll work on it, okay? I'll try really hard to remember."

That cheers Henry up immensely. Despite what all the grown-ups think, he does have some sense of when he's just being humored, and he doesn't like it much. But this doesn't seem like that. Mary seems sincere in her willingness to try to remember, and that much is big progress for Operation Cobra.

Not to mention the fact that Mary seems so close to remembering anyway that he's half convinced that he's going to be talking to Snow White herself any minute now. Snow's in there, he knows, he can see her in Mary's eyes.

And if he can get Snow back, he figures the rest of them can't possibly be far behind. Snow is the key. She always has been.

And with her back, with her on their side, good will win.

He cheerfully tells Mary how great that sounds, and then turns to his mom and suggests that he should probably head home. There is positively no sense to getting the Evil Queen angry and suspicious right when they are so close to a major breakthrough, he decides, and so he should not be late for dinner.

He runs upstairs for a quick moment to give a sleeping Laci a nice scratch on the head. Even with the cat not awake, he did not want to leave without saying hello. After all, he remembers, she was kind of partly his pet, and people didn't leave the home their pets were in without at least something of a greeting.

Also, it's pretty cool that his mom lets him hang out alone in her room even for just a few short moments. The room looks like her, smells like her, even feels like her, and it causes a swooping feeling of joy and pride in his stomach when he glances over at her end table to see a framed picture of the two of them together, beaming at the camera.

He wonders if she has any idea what a good mom he really thinks she is, and decides he'll find a way to tell her, some other time. She's already adjusting to a lot, no need to overwhelm her.

He runs back downstairs to give a bear hug to Amy, a wave to Mary, and he's just about to say good-bye to Emma when Mary interrupts.

"Em, you shouldn't let Henry walk home on his own. It's gotten late and dark out, I think we'd both rather know he gets home safe."

Much as he likes the idea of spending more time with his mom, Henry cannot help the ten year old's sense of righteous indignation. "I can walk home myself, I'm not a little kid."

Mary smiles at him. "No, not at all. But can you maybe humor me anyway? I'd just be worrying about you, and I'd have to call Regina to make sure you got home okay, and I don't think she'd be very happy to hear from me."

Henry gasps. He hadn't even thought of that, and he suddenly realizes a brand new reason to be glad that Snow's starting to remember - it'd be very, very helpful to have a brilliant grown-up who really understands in on Operation Cobra.

"You're absolutely right!" Henry exclaims. "That would be a terrible idea. Mom, you're okay with walking me home, right?"

His mother smiles at him. "Always, kid. Come on, get your coat on."

He does, but he watches Emma and Mary all the while. Something seems strange about the dynamic between them, but for the life of him he can't imagine what it would be.

"You gonna be alright?" Emma asked.

"Of course," Mary replies. "It will only be a few minutes. Maybe I'll get dinner started."

"You hungry?"

"Not overly," Mary admits, "but we've got to eat, right? Go on, it's fine. I'm fine. I could use a few minutes by myself to clear my head anyway."

"Alright," Emma says, and even Henry can hear the wariness in her voice as she wraps an arm around his shoulders. "I'll be right back."

"Yep, see you in a few," Mary replies with an obviously false cheer.

Henry can't help but smile encouragingly at her as he and Emma walk out the door.

He never figured that remembering it all would be an easy thing to do, after all.

* * *

><p>The door closes behind them, and Mary heads straight for the front window, such that she can see a few minutes later when Emma and Henry's figures are visible heading down the street hand in hand.<p>

The image would make her smile if she didn't already have so much on her mind. As it is, she damn near collapses into the nearest chair. "Oh my God, oh my God," she mutters.

Mika's voice is as tiny as Mary has ever heard it when she speaks up. _Mary? _

_It's all true, isn't it? It's all real? _

Mika's voice shakes even with the single worded reply.

_Yes. _

_The dream I just remembered? I was in one of your memories? _

_Yes. _

_You ate a _poisoned apple_? _

She got the sense that Mika somehow felt just as sick as she did, stunned that it was over, stunned that this much had finally been revealed.

_Yes. _

_And he saves you, somehow? _

_Yes. _

She does not know what possesses her to vocalize this particular thought. It just seems necessary, as if saying it out loud would somehow make it all seem more real, less insane.

Less terrifying.

"Snow?" she breathed.

And after many long, drawn out, emotionally charged moments drag on, Snow White finally answers.

_Yes. _

* * *

><p>Mary Margaret Blanchard, such that she is, is pretty sure that she is commended for the fact that she has not passed out, flown into a violent rage, or been very sick to her stomach.<p>

Talking to herself though, is apparently non-negotiable.

"How can this be real," she mutters. "How can this honestly, really, actually be real? This should be an absurd dream, something I can laugh off when I wake up, not my reality."

Mika - _Snow_, she tells herself near hysterically - had been quiet for the last little while, trying to give her time and space to adjust and absorb, but that's clearly not going to happen any time soon, and they obviously need to talk.

_Mary, you need to take a deep breath. Please, please try to breathe before you hyperventilate. _

_Can't have that, can we? Gotta have some sense of self preservation, and breathing is part of that, right? Unlike eating poisoned apples gifted from vengeful, murderous evil queens? _

_Hey! _Snow thought, offended in spite of herself. _It was to save _him_. You would have done the exact same thing for David, don't even bother to deny it. We're the same that way, their lives are worth everything else. _

_Okay. So you've got me there. Whatever. _

Snow just laughs at her, strained, but true.

_So David then. He's got Prince Charming buried in him somewhere? _

_Charming's not actually his name, _Snow says conversationally. _This world got the fairy tale wrong in that sense. It's a nickname, one that I sarcastically gave him when he was being an ass actually. _

Mary snorts out surprised laughter despite herself. _What? You serious? _

_Yeah. I really didn't expect it to stick, but it kind of turned out to suit him. He's more charming than I knew how to deal with. _

_And falling madly in love with him was what, your coping mechanism for charm? _

Snow laughs. _Something like that. Trust me, I didn't plan on it. I had big plans of never seeing him again that failed miserably. He got so deep into my head and heart, so freaking fast, that I had no way of protecting myself against falling hopelessly in love with him. And somehow... somehow the same thing happened for him. _

'_Somehow'? Don't cut yourself so short. _

_What do you mean? _

_You make it kind of hard not to love you, Meek... Snow. You should have been something that horrified me, something that I wanted rid of. Instead you became my sister. You seem to have that kind of power over people, can't blame Charming for falling for it. _

_You... you still feel that way? Even now? _

_Of course. Not all that much has changed between us, really, _she says thoughtfully. _So I know your real name, and something of your past. But you're still the same person I loved as Mika, and that much doesn't seem to be going to change, even as I deal with all of this. _

_Love you too, Mare. _

For a little while they are both quiet, basking in the warmth they can both feel within the space of Mary's head, but there are still questions that need to be asked.

_Does it feel weird for you? Being able to answer questions and explain yourself without being blocked at every turn? _

_Sure it does. But not as much as you might think. I feel freer than I have in I don't even want to think of how long, being able to be open with you like this. It couldn't possibly feel wrong or bad in anyway, to finally just be able to be, to not have to fight so much. _

_It was the curse, blocking you? Magic? _

_Obscene, dark, powerful magic, yes. And it's still present it just... doesn't seem to have control over me now. Not when you know the truth. It can't do anything to me anymore when I've got that advantage. _

_I still can't get over the fact that magic is real. _

_Not really in this world. It's real to me, not you. _

_How can you say that? Snow, you are still trapped in my freaking head. _

_Well, there's that. _

They both laugh helplessly for some time, before Mary gets control back.

_Seriously though. How do we let you out? You're not meant to be trapped in me. You're meant to live your own life, find your way back to Charming... and I suspect there's much more that you haven't even told me yet? _

_I have no idea how we get me out. We'll figure it out, together. It will make things a hell of a lot easier now that you actually know what it is we are trying to do. _

_And my second question? _

_Hmmm? _

_What haven't you told me, Snow? _

Snow goes silent, and that worries Mary, because she knows that this isn't the curse's doing, this is Snow being afraid to tell her something.

_It's about Emma, isn't it? _Mary continues gently. _It's the reason why you always react to her so strongly? _

_You're going to freak out, Mare. It's too much, and you're already dealing with so much. _

_I can't imagine there's anything more to deal with than the fact that I've got Snow White living it up in my head. You need to tell me, Snow. No more secrets between us, not now, when we've finally rendered the magic useless. _

_She's my daughter, Mare. _Snow tells her, inner voice shaking. _She's Charming's and my daughter. _

Mary loses her breath, and suspects it's entirely possible that she won't ever get it back. "What?" she whispers out loud, gasping for breath all the while.

_You heard me right, Mare. Emma is my daughter. It's why I've never been able to handle it when she spoke about her past. It damn near destroys me that she's had such a hard life, that I wasn't able to be there for her, to protect her from the world and anything that could ever hurt her in it. _

_How... how is that even possible? _

_Charming sent her through a portal to this world just after I gave birth to her, just as the curse was hitting our castle. I was supposed to go through while pregnant with her, but I went into labour early. Only one could go through, and Mary, we had to save her. It destroyed us to let her go, but Gods, we couldn't let her fall victim to the curse with us. _

_How old are you? _

_Twenty-nine. _

_But Emma is... _

_Twenty-eight. I know. I've been trapped within you, within time, for twenty-eight years. Realistically, Regina ended up accomplishing what she'd wanted to with the apple after all, except your body was my tomb, not my own. And we both know I didn't wake up, not really, until Emma and David came into your life. _

_How did you know Emma is twenty-eight? _

_It was prophesied to us that Emma would save us. That she would come find us on her twenty-eighth birthday, and that the final battle would begin from there. I don't know what is meant by that... I know you haven't seen any wars breaking out since Emma came to town. But she came. She's here. I missed her entire life, and I will never stop hating myself for that, but she is alive, she's here, and she is so beautiful I can hardly handle it. _

_This is too much for me to deal with, Snow. I've got Snow White trapped in my head, Prince Charming buried somewhere in the man I'm in love with, and my best friend is Snow White's daughter destined to save us all?! What's next? Who are my dog and cat, dwarves? _

_Leroy is Grumpy. Sleepy works with him in the hospital security department. Happy is Alair, the guy at the hardware store. Sneezy is the pharmacist. I don't know about Dopey, Bashful and Doc, I haven't sensed you seeing them around regularly, though they've got to be in town somewhere. And your dog and cat are your dog and cat. A brilliant act of kindness, as well as slightly cunning romantic advance on your part. They're your pets, Mare. A normal thing to have in this world. Nothing more, nothing less. _

Mary sighs. _Okay. Maybe we stop overwhelming me with information for the rest of the night? Today has been... off the charts insane. And I think I just need time to process before we throw anything else at me. _

_Of course. Do you need to talk with David? _

As if the mere thought of him had conjured him up, Mary's cell phone suddenly chimes with a text alert. Reaching for the phone, she checks the message.

_Need to talk to you, right away. Can you meet at our spot? _

Focusing all of her attention on the text, it's somewhat startling for them both, even after everything else, how easily Mary is able to open her senses up so that Snow can see the message too.

_Are you going to tell him? _

_I have to, don't I? This is his life too. And if he knows who he's looking for, maybe he can find your Charming. It's worth a try. _

_I trust you, Mare. And I trust him. So okay. _

With Snow's agreement, Mary quickly types out a reply.

_I need to talk to you too. Something's happened. I'll be there in ten. _

About to hit send, something stops her. Thinking back to the early morning hours, when she'd had no idea what was coming for her with the day, and she had felt nothing but an all consuming joy, utter adoration, and absolute love, she knows that as far as David is concerned for her, nothing has changed, and she adds the three extra, all important words to the message.

_I love you. _

She hits send with a smile on her face.

_Are you scared? _Snow asks.

_Terrified. But David has a way of making things better for me. _

_Charming was always the same way for me. I'm so glad that we both know what that feels like. It's magic. _

_Love? _

_True love. _

_I thought you said true love was almost impossible? _

_It is. But I have it. And I know what it looks like. And Mare, honey, you've got it too. Nothing and no one can keep you from David. _

The phone chimes once more with another text message.

_I love you too. Don't you ever forget it. I'll see you in a few. _

And as the smile spreads across Mary's face, she finds that she believes them both.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: I don't know how you all will react to this chapter, especially after the way the last one ended. It's funny, we have now both progressed massively in terms of the story, and yet not progressed in time from where we left off last chapter at all. This chapter was huge in so many ways, and though I don't want to beg for reviews... Please, guys, I really need to know what you think. At this point in the story, EVERYTHING is going to be huge for the next few chapters, and I kind of would like to know where Freedom Love's readers are at with how you're feeling. <strong>_

_**Though I know a lot of you have questions and/or murderous rage at me for Abigail/Kathryn, I'm not going to do Q&A with this chapter, as it doesn't seem the right place to talk about our utterly un-favourite meddling blonde. This chapter was about Mary and Snow/Mika, and I'd like to keep it that way, but for this one reminder: said blonde loves James and Snow like her brother and sister. I promise you guys, her heart is in the right place. Her head's just probably not right now. **_

_**If you'd like to follow me on twitter, again, I'm at icingsfanfic. I offer bribes of sneak peeks in exchange for the friendship and encouragement that keeps me going on this story, so there's that. **_

_**I truly hope you've enjoyed this chapter. And I'll aim to not make you all wait so long for the next one. **_

_**Thanks, as always, for reading. **_


	17. Whisper to Scream

**Chapter Sixteen: Whisper to Scream **

The look on his face made her feel hot all over. He didn't need to say anything, would never need to say anything. She would always know what he was thinking, what he was saying without words, just by looking at him.

I want you, his look said. I need you. I love you.

They'd been left alone, finally. All the planning, both for what they would do if everything went right, and what seemed like eight hundred contingency plans for if everything went wrong, it all had taken a considerably (frustratingly... and boringly) long time. She loved their friends for being so willing to help, but damn it if they weren't all a bunch of worriers.

The two of them had long ago proven to be rather capable of handling just about anything.

But now they had finally been left alone, and he was looking at her like that, and it was all really unfair, what with the look, and the heat, and the rather inconveniently inappropriate thoughts it was putting in her head about getting all of their clothes off as soon as possible.

The sudden grin on his face disarmed her enough to have her wondering, horrified, if she had been thinking out loud again. Or if he could read her mind, which everyday seemed a more and more likely possibility.

"You're beautiful when you're frustrated," he commented, blandly, as if merely discussing the weather.

Startled, she huffed out a laugh. "I'm sorry?"

"It's rather entertaining to sit in strategy meetings with you," he continued as if she hadn't said anything. "So much so that I find it very difficult to pay any attention at all to the actual strategy. I just sit back and watch you and wonder how long it's going to be before you decide 'forget the plan' and go diving into trouble that I will follow you into without a second thought, leaving the two of us alone to fend for ourselves and each other which is essentially what you wanted all along."

Okay, so he's got her pegged.

"I can't stand the thought of anyone else in danger for us," she admits, seeing no point in denying it. "All this planning, and plotting, and it will do us all no good, because as soon as we try anything, it's all going to go straight to hell. We know it will, it always does. And I don't want anyone's safety, anyone's life in my hands but yours and mine."

He raises an eyebrow at her. "Most people would only want their own life in their hands."

"You and I never have been traditional. I will always want your life safely in my hands, could never trust it to anyone else, least of all you. Someone's got to keep you safe so you don't get yourself killed trying to protect me."

His gaze, intent on her, heats even while he laughs at her, and he starts taking slow, measured steps towards her. "I suppose then, we shall just have to spend our lives together each keeping the other safe with reckless abandon for our own safety."

Reclining back against the pile of soft down pillows and blankets that surround her, she cocks her head to the side, coy. "You are not going to tell me off for valuing your safety above my own?"

Kneeling in front of her, close enough that he reaches out and brushes a loose curl of hair out of her eye, he whispers, "Would be rather hypocritical if I did that now, wouldn't it? When your safety, your well-being, and your happiness, all fall well above my own safety on my list of priorities."

Eyes fluttering closed at his intimate touch, she finds she has to work to keep her mind on the banter. "You'll have to raise your safety up at least one rung on that list. For my happiness could never be possible without your safety."

Leaning in to kiss her, he pauses, only the slightest sliver of space left in between them. "Mmm," he hums, "there is that. I suppose we shall just have to stay by each other's side always, keeping each other safe and happy."

"It will be a challenge, to be stuck together so. Such a pity."

"Real travesty," he agrees. "Don't quite know how we're going to manage it. Perhaps with more of this?" He gently slides his lips over hers, ghosting, barely making contact, a blatant tease.

She fears the sound that escapes her lips could be construed as a whimper. "Yes," she sighs. "More."

He's close enough that she can feel the vibration of his chuckle against her skin. Frustrated, she finds herself pouting at him.

She hasn't pouted since she was twelve years old, but this man apparently does things to her no one else does.

He pulls back, and he's beaming at her, though the look in his eyes has turned serious. Contemplative, and somehow strangely evaluating.

"You are everything to me, Snow. My entire world. I need you to know that."

"I know it, Charming. As you are to me. I love you, so very, very much. I thank the Gods everyday that you are mine."

His expression changes once more. His eyes are as dark as she has ever seen them, deep sapphire, and she feels the heat along her skin simmer from a slow burn to raging flames.

She wants him, in a way she has never wanted anything.

"Yours," he's murmuring against her lips, as his kiss changes from a teasing touch to something more demanding, more raw, and as she moves to deepen it further, he pulls back, watching her, staring at her, through her, to her.

"You. Are. Mine," he declares, quietly, emphatically.

She is on _fire_.

"Yes," she whispers, not daring to look away from his eyes. "And I always will be."

He is suddenly back up against her, lips tracing a path down her neck and collar, and she finds that it drives her to distraction. She can barely think, and finds the feeling of it euphoric in a way she wouldn't have expected it to be.

"I need to hear you say it," he tells her, before sparing a moment to dip his tongue into the hollow of her throat. "Please, Snow, I know... It's not right, it's not fair, you're not an object, and you don't belong to me. But when it comes to you, I find I'm a possessive man. I've come to think of you as mine, and I, I need to hear you say the words."

The smile spreads across her face slowly, lazily. "It is as right as anything I've ever heard, Charming. I love that you're possessive of me. I love that you feel for me as I do for you. I love everything about you, everything you are. I love _you_. And Charming, I am _yours_."

She's pinned back against the pillows by him, his body half on top of hers, before she can take her next breath, which is just as well as she's lost her breath anyway. He's kissing her in a way he never has before, and she delights in the thought that they are alone, completely and perfectly alone, having asked their friends and knights to leave them for a private discussion.

They'd never been granted such privacy as this. Ever.

And she wants him, and she loves him, and she is really going to need him to do something about this fire before she spontaneously combusts.

And maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way, because when she reaches to slip her shoulders out of her gown, her hands meet his going to do the same, which freezes them both.

They're both breathing heavily, both desperate, even as, for just a moment, they both pull back. He touches his lips to her forehead, and the sweetness of the gesture calms her immediately, relaxes her, allows her to catch her breath.

Does nothing to cool the fire.

She knows what she wants.

Pulling back to look her in the eye, he whispers to her, "We are not married."

"Do you care?" she whispers just as quietly back.

He closes his eyes for a second, questioning himself on it, but has to admit to them both that he does not. "No," he tells her. "I should, but I don't."

Her smile is radiant. "Then nor do I."

His grip on her tightens, even as he looks her in the eye, trying to read her. "I don't... I can't have us having any regrets. I cannot, I will not hurt you, Snow. If you don't want..."

"I just want you, Charming," she interrupts. "I want us."

For a moment, he simply stares at her, analyzing, searching for even the slightest hint of doubt.

He finds none.

And the look on his face changes enough - eyes now darkened to almost navy - that she wonders if he's feeling the fire too, if it's spread over to him, because surely her skin wasn't enough to keep it contained. She feels as though she's dangling on the edge of something, and ready to make the jump into the abyss.

"Snow," he starts, and his voice has deepened, roughened to a gravelly tone she's never heard of him before, and she finds she's not scared, not even nervous.

Love - pure, delighted love for him makes her brave.

She pushes herself up, stretching for him, still hovering above her. She swipes her lips across his in a feather light touch, then pulls back once more to watch him watch her.

He's waiting for her to decide, to make the move one way or the other, to move apart or move forward.

It's not a difficult decision.

The cream tunic he wears - having already divested himself of his ceremonial overcoat when he first entered the tent - she has always loved on him. She always has liked him best this way, this casual, almost sleepy look to him that only she gets to see. He's still self-conscious enough about his princeliness that he only trusts her enough to let his guard down around and be himself, be casual, be comfortable. Be free.

She's the only one who knows the truth, the only one he's told. It's a secret she'll take to her grave, should he wish it so.

It's one of many ways she plans to love him in their life together.

Her love for him is the biggest thing she's ever felt. There are other words for it, but big always seemed best. The sheer magnitude of what she felt for him made everything else seem insignificant, _small _by comparison, as if nothing mattered but him.

She's determined that he should know it, should understand how much, how deeply, how big she feels for him, but she can never find the words when she tries to tell him. Showing him, she figures, is her best option. Letting him see it, her love for him.

Making him feel it with her along the way.

This is just one of many ways for her to make him feel it.

He's startled, she can tell, when she leans forward and begins pulling that adored cream tunic up off his chest. His movements are jerky, rushed, unsure, as he lifts his arms above his head in a much appreciated attempt to help her divest him of his clothing.

Once she has the shirt off him, she tosses it aside without looking, unknowing and uncaring of where it may land.

Their eyes lock, and she can see the question in his.

"Are you..." he tries.

She cuts him off with a kiss, shushing him quietly against his lips.

"I love you," she whispers, as she moves to map out the lines and curves of his face with her lips, kissing his forehead, above his left eyebrow, his jaw, his wonderful, strong jaw. She thinks she could stay there for awhile. She thinks she can take her time, focus the entirety of her attention on each individual part of his body, because he's hers, all hers, and tonight is theirs.

"I love you," she repeats, pulling back away from him for a moment - not without some regret - so she can look him in the eye as she says it. "I love you. So just love me."

She's flat on her back before she can blink, and he's whispering declarations of love in between kisses, encouraging her without words to open her mouth to his and the heat is burning, unbearable in a way that shouldn't be pleasurable but is.

She catches up to him quickly, hands and lips everywhere, and she angles her head just so to place a kiss on the scar on his jaw, the scar she gave him, and apparently that's an interesting spot for him, because it drags a moan out of him that she wants to hear over and over again for the rest of her days, and so she kisses it again, and again once more after that, just to hear the sound.

And apparently she's found his breaking point after the third kiss, because he grabs her hands and pins them down above her head, somewhat roughly, and it shocks her how much she likes it. She doesn't fight it, allows him to transfer the grip of both of her hands into his left, and watches, just watches, as he begins pulling at her gown with his right hand. She wiggles a bit, wanting loose, wanting to help, but Charming freezes her with a look.

His eyes have never before looked quite the way they do now, dark and slightly wild around the edges, and she thinks that she'd never known it could be like this, never known it was possible to want another person so badly.

"Stay still," he tells her, and wow has his voice ever gotten rough. "Just for a moment, my darling, stay still."

And for that, for him, she does, she stays perfectly still, as he pulls and drags the gown off of her and tosses it aside with the same carelessness she had his shirt, and for a few long moments, he sits back and simply stares at her, and looking up at him, she stares right back, no self consciousness to speak of.

"You're stunning," he breathes, and she could swear she feels like she's flying.

"Charming," she attempts, and she thinks that they're both surprised at how it comes out, closer to a sob than a word. "Charming, please."

She's begging, she knows she is, and that's not something she does, except apparently when she's in bed with her fiance. And from the spark in his eyes, he seems to like it, and so she gives it another try. "Please, please, I need you."

He bends back to her, and her desperation is shared by him, she can feel it in his kiss, in the way his hands shake just slightly as they work their way down her body, exploring the new skin never revealed to him before now, and his lips follow his hands down the path they'd set, and she's out of her mind, crying out to him as he kisses her everywhere and anywhere. It's all too much and not enough all at the same time, and when his mouth finally closes over her...

Mary Margaret Blanchard gasps in a breath, loses her balance, trips over what could have been a loose rock and also was probably just her own two feet, and falls flat on her ass in the middle of the darkened street.

Startled from her daydream to experience the effects of a fall she can now feel, Snow White is not overly cheerful in her response. _What the hell? _

Of course, nor is Mary. '_What the hell?' Seriously right now? I'm the one who should be saying 'what the hell' right now! _

_Dude, _Snow complains sarcastically, having lived this world enough through Mary to have picked up on some of its bastardization of the English language, _you're the one who fell. _

_Yeah, _Mary snorts as she picks herself up off the road. _I find that happens sometimes when one's live-in fairy tale character starts playing their decidedly un-fairy-tale-like porn in one's head. _

Mary could swear she actually heard the record go screeching off the player in the part of her head that is Snow.

_Um... so... I... ... You saw that? _

_Yep. You were pretty much broadcasting it. Right through my head. Vividly. _

_Oh Gods. _

_Gods? _Mary asked, distracted by curiosity. _As in... plural? _

_You're seriously asking about that right now? _

_You're seriously going to question the escape route? I could go back to the porn... _

_Gods it is! _

Mary figured it was rather kind of Snow to give her a few minutes to giggle before beginning her story.

_I lived a very different life than you, Mare. A different time, different land. Yes, to me, 'Oh God' could never be right. It's... it wasn't like... belief was not as it is now. It wasn't what you now call religion to us, back then. We didn't have prayer, not as you do now. We would thank the Gods for their blessings, their gifts, knowing they could just as easily take them away. Our Gods were not seen as the symbol of goodness as this land regards theirs. Our Gods were of the land, of the water, of air and fire. The natural, rather than the sublime. They were not all-knowing, all-seeing, and far from all powerful. They were limited, restrained by who and what they are; their powers, the natural aspect that they individually governed. We just... we believed very differently. _

_It's fascinating to think about, Snow. _

_I suppose it would be, to someone from this land. For me, it's just something I've always known, as much a part of me and my life as anything else that basic - not something I really think about all too much. _

_There's still similarities between us though. _

_Like? _

The delighted, slightly evil grin spread across Mary's face without conscious thought, though Snow could certainly feel it through their increased connection, and bristled in preparation for the taunt.

_Well, it seems as though no matter what land one is of, calling out to the Gods is a normal reaction to embarrassment. And I'm guessing if I'd kept watching instead of falling flat on my ass, I'd have seen it be a reaction to some other things too. _

Mary could almost feel Snow scowl.

_Not letting that one go, are we? _

_After all the teasing you've done when David so much as looks at me, how could I? What kind of friend would I be if I didn't comment on what just played through my head? _

_Ugh, at least your fall did break that connection... what you were watching was private! I'm not sure how much I love us suddenly sharing everything. You couldn't have stopped me earlier? I'm pretty sure the way things were going in that particular memory was rather obvious long before my gown went flying across the tent. _

_Uh, yeah, I pretty much started trying to get your attention, yelling your name as soon as you told your Charming you were his. The look on his face basically covered what was going to happen after that. I really was trying to get your attention, but uh... you were rather distracted. _

_You were calling for me? _

_The phrase "For the love of God Snow, I'm going to be traumatized for life" rings a vague bell for me. _

_Oh. Damn. _

_Yup. _

_And you couldn't... block it - er - me? _

_Tried. It didn't go well. _

_No? _

_Nope. It seems now that we've got the barrier between us down, building any kind of block back up is just... not happening. Not from my side, anyway. I mean, you're in _my_ head. Now that there's no curse keeping secrets for you, I can pretty much tell what's going on with you, unless you take pains to keep things private. Which, you know, you were a little too distracted to attempt. _

_Yeah, uh... sorry about that? _

Mary heaved a put-out, but not entirely unamused sigh. _I'll live. But if there's anything you ever want to keep to yourself, you're going to have to focus on keeping it there. The onus is on you... I have no control over what filters through to me. Much as I may wish I could put blinders on for some things. _

_Again... really, really sorry. _

_It's okay, Snow. I may have seen more than I wanted to see, but at the same time... _

_What? Don't tell me you enjoyed it. Embracing newly voyeuristic tendencies? _Snow teased.

Mary snorted, then chirped right back. _Hardly. You're the perv around here, playing fairy tale porn in my head. _

Snow tried hard to feel offended, but it was rather hard to do so when she was trying not to laugh.

_No it was just... Snow, I can't get over how happy you were. The way that you looked at him, the way he looked at you. You were just... so freaking beautiful together. I'd never seen anything like that. This true love that you speak of? I know you say David and I have it too, or the closest thing to it, and I'd love to believe it, but Snow... you and Charming, you just fit. It's weird, I've got you living in my head, so I _know_ the fairy tales are real... but I don't know if I really believed in it until I saw what the two of you were like together. _

Mary didn't think that much about it as she said it, but the sudden prick behind her eyes, the unmistakable feeling of being close to tears had her trailing off.

Her body was close to crying, overcome by emotions that were not her own.

That felt strange.

_Snow? _Mary asked, inner voice small, diminished by both worry for her friend and the undeniable fear of an urge to cry that did not belong to her.

_You need to worry less about me. I'm okay. _

_You're close to tears. _

_I can't cry. You know that. _

_I'd agree with that. Except my body seems to want to cry, and the tears I feel in my eyes I'm entirely detached from. They're not mine, Snow, but we both know I'm not the only one in here. _

_That's... _

_New? _

Snow takes an abnormally long time to respond.

_That's one way of putting it, _she finally mutters, and Mary knows that they're equally freaked out.

_We'll figure this all out, _Mary tells her, trying to infuse her voice with a confidence she doesn't feel.

_It's so scary though. _

_I know. _

_I didn't count on you mattering so much. _

_I know. _

_I'm terrified of what will happen to us, the more I... the more able I become. _

_I know. _

_Do you? _

_I'm in here with you, Snow. I know. _

Snow's acknowledgement of that comes out in a sigh, weary but accepting. _I know you do. _

And Snow can't smile, not yet, but Mary feels the warmth of it anyway.

Mary makes it just about to the edge of the woods in silence, with neither herself or Snow speaking. They'd each retreated to an area of their head where they could be alone with their own thoughts, blocking them from broadcasting to each other with an effort they now understood was necessary.

If they wanted to keep something private, they would have to make it so.

And in her private little area, her own little bubble, Mary determined that there was something that had been left unsaid, and lets her thoughts move freely to Snow once more.

_Are you going to tell me why what I said upset you? _

_It didn't. _

Mary snorts. _You know when you can't get away with lying to someone, Snow? When you exist inside that person's head. _

Snow laughs, the piercing giggle that Mary could always feel the vibration of, and Mary finds herself as reassured by it as she's ever been.

_Not lying, Mare. I wasn't upset. It's not... That's not what that was. _

_You miss him, _Mary says simply, matter-of-factly, as it is so.

_Yes, _Snow replies in much the same tone. _My love for him makes up so much of who I am. I'm not... I can never fully be me without him. I know that probably sounds melodramatic, but it's true. He and I were just... connected in a way that barely even made sense. Even back in our land, a love like that... _

_True love. _

_Yes, true love... it just doesn't happen. Everyone we knew, no one could understand it, because no one had ever felt anything like that themselves. It was just ours, to such a point that it hardly seemed like it could be real to anyone else. It was just him and me, in our own little bubble, and no one could break it, no one else could get in. I couldn't have explained it to anybody if I tried. There weren't any words for it. But now here I am, in this other life, trapped within you, and you can see it, and you... you just get it, without me having to say a word. And that just, it really means a lot. So I guess more than anything, it touched me to have you somehow understand it all. _

Mary's quiet for a long time before responding.

_You're in here with me, Snow. _

_I know? _Snow responds, confused.

_No, sometimes I'm not sure you do. Snow... you're as in here as I am. I may have control, but this body, our body, and what it feels, it's as much yours as it is mine. Your thoughts and memories, they mean every bit as much as my own do. And when you get lost in a memory like that, that you're broadcasting, that you're not guarding, so it gets through to me... Snow, I feel it too. I feel it with you. The way you long for Charming, the way you want and need him; the feeling of the memory, that filters through to me as much as the memory itself does. It's not that I just somehow magically 'get' it. You're giving it to me. As you relive it, I live it with you. I'm not a neutral observer sitting back watching your memories like movies. I'm part of you, just as much as you're part of me. _

_You couldn't understand love like that if you hadn't lived it yourself though. _

_You keep saying that. _

_And have you ever known me to lie to you? Get blocked from telling you things by Gods forsaken curses, yes, but lie to you? _

_I don't think you could lie to me if you tried. Side effect to the whole sharing a head thing. _

_I'm so tempted to raise your own eyebrow at you judgmentally right now. _

_Point, _Mary acknowledges. _Yes, I know you would never lie to me. It's just... wrapping my head around something like that. 'True love'... it's something in fairy tales, but... _

_You have to remember, Mare, they weren't fairy tales to us. I know it's hard to get past that idea of 'stories' in your head, but... that actually was my life. That's my history. And I was every bit as skeptical of the idea of true love as so many in this world are. I didn't believe it was possible. 'Soulmates'? It wasn't realistic. It really wasn't. Love as magic? It wasn't supposed to be real. Charming and I shouldn't have been possible. But we happened anyway. And because we did, nothing can ever destroy it. Even in a new life, new world, trapped in the bodies of you and David... there's still that love, so powerful that it drew you and David together, connected you, even when there was nothing to explain how you could want so much, so fast. There was always a tiny bit of that magic in you two Mare, Charming and I gave that to you, but then you and David made something all your own out of it. You made your own, bigger magic. That's all yours. _

_I have no doubt that there's something special between David and I. And when you say it's true love, I believe it somehow. I believe it coming from you. But to call it that myself... it just, it asks me to suspend disbelief, and I've never been too good at that. _

_You had to suspend disbelief to accept my existence, didn't you? _

Mary freezes, thrown off. _I... yes. _

_To accept that I'm Snow White, to accept that Charming is buried in David somewhere, to accept that we're all under a curse, to accept that your best friend is my daughter, to accept that I come from another world and somehow ended up on your head... Mare, you kicked disbelief straight out the freaking window ages ago. _

_I did... didn't I? _

_You keep telling me I'm in here with you. And I am, Mare, I admit that, I accept it. There's no way to deny it. We're in this, in here together. And just as you feel things with me, I feel things with you. As someone who's felt it, you need to trust me on this. What you feel for David is completely separate from what I feel for Charming. It's separate, but it's not different. I know what true love feels like, and Mare, what you're feeling, that's it. But you've got to believe in it. _

_I believe you. I trust you. _

_Trust _it_. _

Having made her way into the first tree line that indicated the transition from the town to the woods, Mary finds herself stopping for a moment to look forward. When she focused enough, squinting just slightly, she could just see the outline of the Toll Bridge in the distance, and knew that David was close by.

That knowledge was enough to have her heart soar. Being near him was enough.

And suddenly, she trusted. Suddenly, she believed. Not in what Snow was saying.

But what she felt herself.

_I love him in a way that doesn't feel like it could really be real. It feels too much. But it's there, and it i_s_. _

_I know, _Snow tells her, satisfied.

_That's it, isn't it? _

_Oh, honey. Yes. That's it. _

"Magic," she whispers into the night air.

_Love, _Snow replies. _Extraordinary, rare, powerful, beautiful, pure, unbreakable... true... but at the end of the day, just love. _

_That's all I have ever really wanted, _Mary marvels.

_Well, _Snow chides, _then it is time to go tell him. _

At this, a smile spreads across Mary's face. Though she cannot know it, unable to see herself, she looks beyond radiant.

Intent, she begins walking once more, straight towards the Toll Bridge.

_Okay, yeah, _she finally responds to Snow. _That I can do. _

* * *

><p>He hates.<p>

He agonizes, and he worries, and he paces around the bridge - being careful to stomp with every last footstep, as if that would fix anything at all.

He waits for her, and he tortures himself as he does, thinking of her, and of the moments they'd shared.

Mostly, he just hates. He hates the situation, hates Regina, hates Kathryn with a sharp, piercing flame of loathing he had not ever known he was capable of, but can now feel in every bone of his body.

He thinks about what he's about to do to Mary, imagines the look on her face, and hates himself even more.

He's been racking his brain, trying to come up with something he could have done differently, and finds that he can come up with nothing at all, but remains certain that there was something, some decision he had made, something he had screwed up, some way he could have gone right to have kept everything from going so wrong.

It would fix absolutely nothing. Matter of fact, it would probably make it all worse if he had the knowledge that all of this could have been avoided.

Still, he wonders about it.

He figures he's doomed to spend the rest of his life wondering about it, torturing himself with it, so might as well get started early.

Maybe if he'd never tried to be Kathryn's husband for her. Maybe if he hadn't fallen for her lies, her deceit. Maybe if he'd been honest from the beginning, that he could never love Kathryn, that he'd begun falling for someone else while still trying to work his way out of a coma. Maybe if he'd screamed, fought his way out of the embrace when Kathryn had come exploding into his hospital room, forcing her way into his arms at the beginning of it all. _No_, maybe he could have said. _No, this isn't right, this isn't how it's supposed to be, it's supposed to be her, the one in the hall, with the green eyes that stunned him (there could be nothing more beautiful) and a broken smile because she'd hoped, because she'd felt something too. _Maybe if he'd never tried to be someone other than who he was, maybe it all would have been okay.

He had wanted Mary from the moment he'd woken up, dragging himself out of a hospital bed, because she wasn't there and he'd needed her, the one whose sweet voice had fixed something that had been broken. He'd wanted her as he wandered the woods searching for her, half out of his mind, certain that some bridge he didn't know the way to was the key to everything. He'd wanted her as she saved him, when he opened his eyes and she was all he could see.

He'd wanted her as she helped him get better, her daily visits distracting him from the pain he still felt hours after he was through with rehab for the day. He'd wanted her as he left the party at the home he did not care for, because the one person who mattered hadn't been there. He'd wanted her as he told her she was all he could hope for, that wanting her was who he was now. He'd wanted her when honour made him turn away, and he'd wanted her even more when she'd told him she would fight anyway.

He'd wanted her as she fought, and wanted her as they'd fallen.

There was literally not a single clear moment in his memory that he hadn't wanted her.

Oh, sure, he'd gotten something hazy back all that time ago, staring at a windmill he knew he hated. Some kind of memory of a time before Mary, but it was vague, lacking details, and with no feelings attached at all.

With Mary, there was nothing but feeling.

He loved her, probably always had, little sense as that made. And maybe if he'd been honest with himself, with everyone from the beginning. Maybe if he hadn't tried to fight it. Maybe if he'd never let Kathryn hope, he could have walked away clean.

He doubts it, feeling another fierce wave of loathing. Kathryn, as possessive, as cruel, as manipulative as she has turned out to be, would never have let him go. She would have done this, would have made the conscious effort to destroy him, no matter what.

Still, the possibilities, the questions, the what ifs stab at him from the inside out.

He wipes at his face, surprised to find his hand come away wet. For a moment he just feels numb, as he wonders exactly how long he's been crying. It's just a second, of pure blank oblivion, before everything comes rushing back, and he's swiping at his face, furious, determined to get rid of every last tear, every bit of evidence of the way he had so completely fallen apart.

He refuses to do that to Mary, to let her arrive at the bridge expecting everything to be as it was, and instead find a weeping mess of the man she's in love with. It would terrify her, and he will not have that. Not on top of everything else.

He gathers himself, carefully, methodically. He's pretty sure that his face has been rubbed red and raw, but if nothing else, finally feels dry.

He wishes he could turn the pain off, but recognizes lack of pain as a gift he will never again receive. It would be a stretch beyond anything possible to say that he has reached calm acceptance, rather, he suddenly feels rather resigned to his fate.

The pain is agonizing, a dull knife's cut, but he can pull his focus away from it.

He is as prepared as he possibly can be to break them both.

And then he can see her, and it turns out he's prepared for nothing at all.

* * *

><p>It turns out, Mary quickly discovers, that with new love, eight hours is easily long enough to miss someone. For the second David is within her sightline, something within her just lightens. It's an overwhelming feeling, almost staggering, and she almost finds herself jogging the last short distance over to him.<p>

(She usually can't run for the life of her, but she's light on her feet today, and almost feels graceful as she takes those last few - bouncing - steps).

"David," she beams, half jumping into his embrace. He reaches out, instinct taking over, and it almost feels like muscle memory, the way they come together, him catching her just as she jumps. He's got her hoisted up, having literally caught her in mid air, and he doesn't seem in any real rush to set her back down.

It's fun like this, up in the air, a new perspective on him. He's caught her held up high enough that her head is just inches above his, and he's usually so much taller than her that she can't help but grin.

And maybe she catches him off guard, because he's looking just slightly off, surprise widening his eyes, as though he's not entirely sure how any of this happened, and he just looks so adorably bewildered that she leans down those couple of inches - and how funny it feels to lean down to do so! - and brushes her lips against his.

And God, she's one hundred percent certain that kisses shared in fairy tale porn have got nothing on this.

The second her lips touch his, a strangled sort of moan escapes him. She moves to pull back, wanting to see him, but the arm not wrapped around her waist keeping her airborne had moved to grip the back of her head, and he was _clutching_ her to him, and hey, she's not going to complain. Her legs move to wrap around his middle almost of their own accord, and they couldn't be closer together if they tried. It's intense, it's consuming, and she feels almost drunk with it.

She moves to pull back, to give herself a second to breathe, but David just holds her to him tighter, making some disapproving sound deep in his throat, lightly biting at her bottom lip as if to gently scold her, and okay, she's not going to argue, especially not when whatever he's now doing with his tongue feels so damn good.

There's something that seems almost desperate about the way he's kissing her, open-mouthed and passionate, as though he would never be able to get enough of her, and at that thought, she feels a slight shiver of foreboding.

He's kissing her like he's afraid he won't be able to again, and that just doesn't make sense, and the thought frightens her. She pulls herself tighter into him, instinctively, for there's no possible place safer for her than in his arms, of that she's sure. And it's a silly thought, but as long as she's here with him, making out by the bridge, well, nothing could go wrong with that.

She doesn't want the moment to end, because she doesn't know what's going to happen when it does.

But then again, if she believes, and she does, she's got to trust.

And that means trusting enough to let the moment end.

"David," she murmurs, still against his lips. "David."

She must break through to him, because he pulls back, just slightly, and lowers her back to the ground, so gently, so carefully, as if he's afraid he might break her. Still, he doesn't release her from his embrace. Rather, he bends his forehead to meet hers, leaving them close.

"Hey Mare," he murmurs, and Mary shudders with the knowledge that something was terribly wrong.

Even with just those two words, she can hear it in his voice. He sounds _wrecked_.

_Need to talk to you, right away. _

What _had _he wanted to talk to her about, that was so important, that had left him like this, on edge and desperate and clinging to her like she could disappear at any moment?

"David?" she asks, with a quaver that she finds she cannot hide, not from him. "What is going on? What's wrong?"

He's already shaking his head, as if preparing a denial, and she means to shut that notion down immediately.

"No," she tells him, firmly. "Don't deny it. We know each other too well for that. I know something's wrong. Talk to me, baby."

David is looking at her as if he's trying to memorize her every last feature, and as she looks back at him, meeting his stare as evenly as she knows how, she suddenly notices how pale he looks, how drawn, how exhausted.

She reaches up to touch her face, gently trails her fingers along the dark circles under his eyes, and from there, around to cup his cheek in her palm.

He leans his head into it, eyes blinking shut at the feel of it, and even through her worry, Mary finds herself taking some satisfaction in being able to comfort the man she loved in such a way.

"Talk to me," she whispers.

"I can't," he murmurs back, choked off.

She swallows past the lump in her throat. "You can't tell me what's wrong?"

"Yes... No. I can't... I can't do this... I can't not... I need you, Mare."

"You know you've got me," Mary replies steadily and with no hesitation. She cannot understand what is going on with him, and it is terrifying her, but even still, certainty rings in every word. "You've got me, David."

She means to reassure him, but if anything, the agony in his eyes only gets worse, and that scares her more than anything else.

"Why should I have you?"

"_What?_" Mary hisses, recoiling, just slightly, just for a moment, but it's enough to make David flinch. Seeing that, immediately regretting it, she moves back in close, touches his face again, directs him to look at her.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she tells him, fighting to keep her voice steady.

"I've never done anything good enough to deserve you," he whispers, unable to maintain eye contact. "Never. You have the purest heart of anyone I'll ever know, and I'll never feel worthy of holding it."

Mary blinks up at him, bewildered. "That's absurd. Do I need to call you an idiot again?"

In spite of himself, in spite of _everything_, David huffs out half a laugh. "No?"

"It sure seems that way. I don't understand why you've suddenly got me up on a pedestal you think you can't reach. Where is all this coming from? We were good this morning, we were so freaking good. I _love_ you. You know that. And if you love me the way I know you do, then yes, you're worthy, you're good enough. _Loving me_ is good enough."

He stares at her, somewhat wonderingly. "How can love just be enough?"

"My entire life, no one's ever loved me," she tells him, voice cracking. "I barely remember my childhood, nothing stands out, it's all just so freaking vague, which goes to tell you what it was like. You don't forget a childhood you felt loved in. I grew up feeling like nothing. I became a teacher to feel something, to feel like I mattered, to feel like I was making a difference in someone's life, but still, that's not love. I've been so incredibly lonely my entire life. And then I find you and... I finally fit, I finally belong with someone."

At that, he looks just about wrecked, and she finds she has to look away, look down.

"Mare..." he tries.

"No. I'm not done. You can't... you cannot lessen what we've got here, David. No one's ever even freaking wanted me before you. No one looked twice at me. I'd go out on a freaking first date and the guy would spend more time staring at Ruby than listening to me. Which, you know, granted, she's insanely hot and if she ever toned down everything she'd be flat out stunning, I'm sure of it... but do you have any idea what that feels like? What _any_ of that feels like? To always, always be second best, or third, or fourth, or not even... just, nothing. And then there's you, and even when we weren't together, you would look at me... and for the very first time in my life, I would feel like something. Maybe even something special. You make me feel beautiful, you make me feel wanted, you make me feel loved... God damn it, you make me _feel_. So yes, David. Yes, it's enough. Love is enough, _your_ love is enough, because it is more than anyone else has ever given me."

She looks back up at him then, finding the courage somewhere. Meets his eyes, shining and loving and so damn conflicted still that it scares her.

"I didn't realize..." David starts.

"What? How much you mean to me?" Mary turns away, staring towards the bridge, the water that she had found him near death in all those months ago.

She had hoped, she had wanted even then.

"Don't worry. For the longest time I didn't realize either. I knew I wanted you. I knew I was falling for you, I knew I could love you, someday... but did I think it would happen so quickly, that someday would come so soon? Did I realize that you were becoming everything to me? I've never felt something like that before, so maybe it took me longer to figure it out than it should have. But I've figured it out now. You are... everything I have ever wanted. And maybe that's it. Maybe all I ever wanted was something I could believe in."

"Like what?"

"You." Turning back to him, she smiles. "Me. And everything we could be together. All my life, I've just been waiting for us. We've got magic together, David. Real magic. Our magic. Don't doubt it, baby."

"I don't, Mare. I don't doubt it for a second. I'm just..." He cuts himself off, groans deep in his throat, half a growl. He's reaching up, cupping his head in his hands, scratching, deep, hard, as if trying to hurt himself, and she's reaching for him to get him to stop when he does himself, grabbing for her hands. "I'm making a mess of this. I just, I don't want you to ever doubt how much I am in love with you. How much I will always, always love you."

"You are terrifying me, David. And this isn't fair to me. You need to tell me what's going on, right now."

His expression twists, agony writ large for anyone to see, let alone the woman who knows him better than anyone. He can't hide it, can't hide anything from her, and though he wishes it weren't necessary, wishes he didn't have to hurt her in such a way, wishes he could end it cleaner, knows that the only option is to tell her the truth.

"Kathryn's fighting the divorce," he finally admits, each word slow and broken as if they're being forcibly dragged out of him.

Mary's shoulders visibly sag with relief. "Is that all this is about? David, we can deal with that. I suspected she wouldn't make this easy, but you've got Gold, and there's some kind of twisted brilliance there and he'll make it work..."

David is already shaking his head.

"Not... not in court, Mare. She's not fighting the legal... whatever, she's fighting all of it. The separation. She showed up at my work tonight."

Mary's stomach drops like a stone.

"What happened?" she asks.

He cannot bring himself to tell her the details.

"It's not important..."

"The hell it isn't..."

"She's just not going to let me go Mare, and she's got me trapped..."

"You're not trapped, don't be... No judge in the state would... David, you don't want the marriage, they'll let you out of it, she can't win, she wouldn't win..." Mary stumbles for words, voice grown increasingly shrill in her panic.

"It's not that simple..."

"It's not that complicated! You take it to court, you win, because she can't, she has no case..."

"It's not going to go to court, Mare," David finally mutters with a terrible finality in his voice.

"What on... what on Earth are you talking about? This isn't... this doesn't even make sense, David. You... you hired Gold, you filed the papers... Kathryn was going to get served, and okay, we expected she'd fight it but you've just got to fight back! There's nothing worth giving this up, it's not fair to either one of you to stay in a loveless marriage and surely she would eventually see that. You love _me_. You are _mine_. And you can't just give up..."

"She's made it about you!" David finally yells, past his breaking point. "If I don't go back to her, she will destroy you, she'll tear your life to shreds!"

"I don't care!" Mary shrieks back.

David freezes, caught somewhere between horror and hope. "You can't mean that. You don't even know what you're saying. She's got Regina, Mare! She's completely ready to wreck your life, to go after your job, your reputation, everything!"

"Fine! If it's a choice between you and everything else, I choose you, David! I will always, always choose you!"

"You can't..."

"I can't go back to life without you! I've just told you what it was like, I can't do it again. I won't. I _love_ you. You've got me, you've got me so entirely, you've wrecked me for anyone, anyone else..."

The mention of that, the mere thought of it, of her with anyone but him has his eyes flash dangerously, hot with the possessiveness they both feel for each other, and she seizes upon it desperately.

"You can't let me go any more than I can let you go! We belong to each other now, David, how do you suppose us apart would work? It's not... it doesn't help me to keep everything but you if I need you like this, if I'm going to be miserable either way. If I have to choose a way to tear my life apart, David, I'd rather let Kathryn do her absolute worst than spend my life without you."

He wants. He wants so badly, so intensely that he can feel the ache, the pain of it in every bone in his body. He wants more than he's ever wanted anything in his life, he's sure of that - vague memories not withstanding - that he wants to just agree, to pick her, to say the hell with Kathryn and whatever damage she thinks she can throw at him.

He wants to be selfish.

The guilt of that stabs at him, and he wonders how he's supposed to bear it for the rest of his life.

But if it would truly make her happy to be with him, would it not be wrong to leave her to alleviate his own guilt?

Is there truly no right decision here?

He throws his head back, stares up at the sky, as if looking for answers, though the only response he sees is the stars above in the pitch black night, shining on as ever.

He feels like they're mocking him.

"I don't know what to do," he admits, voice cracking in a half sob. "I don't know how to do right by you, and that's all I want."

She shakes her head at him as she reaches for him, touches his face. "No, baby. Wanting to do right by me is noble and good, and I love you even more for it, but no, it's not all you want. You want me. You want us to be together. We want the same things, we want them so much." She moves forward then, pushing her lips to his. Her kiss is gentle, a feather light touch, meant as reassurance, as reconnection, as permission. "Let's fight back," she murmurs against his lips. "Let's pick us."

His breath escapes him in one fell swoop, a groan from deep within his throat, as without thought, without care, without consideration for what he was doing or how badly it could hurt them both, he hauls her up into his arms and deepens the kiss, pouring in all the desperation and frustration, passion and love he feels for her.

She would fear she was whimpering slightly, if that weren't the very last thought on her mind. Relief comes off her in waves as she wraps her arms around his neck, pulls him in tighter to her. She can feel herself grinning into the kiss even as he nips at her lower lip, encouraging her to open her mouth to his.

"I love you," he pants between kisses. "So damn much. You can't ever doubt that."

Something twists in her stomach, and she pulls back minutely, just far enough glare at him and keep him in her grasp at the same time.

"Don't say it like you're saying good-bye," she warns him. "I've fought for you from the beginning, I'm not going to stop. I'll even fight you, if that's what it takes. I'm not ever going to stop, David."

He closes his eyes, pained. "It scares me how much I don't want you to," he tells her honestly.

"Good. You shouldn't want me to. We're in this together, no matter what happens."

She goes to kiss him once more, but David pulls back.

"No matter what happens?" he asks, tortured. "No matter if Kathryn gets Regina to pull Henry from your class, doesn't let him see us anymore? No matter if Regina goes to the board, uses her sway as Mayor to go after your job? No matter if they destroy your reputation with everyone in town? That's what they're planning on, Mare! They're going to use their power, and abuse it; to use cruel words, exaggerations and crudeness to turn our relationship into this twisted, ugly thing, and I can't stand it!"

"We'll know better," she tells him quietly, staring up at him. "We know we've got something beautiful. And so does Emma. And Henry," she cries, voice finally breaking, "Henry knows it too, even if Regina keeps him away. The people who matter to me know the truth, I don't care about anyone else. Regina is an ice cold bitch. Kathryn is cruel and manipulative. If the rest of the people in this town are prepared to listen to what two women like that have to say, if they're willing to believe lies they spew about us, then I don't give a shit about them. They don't know me. They don't know us."

"And your _job_?" David hisses. "Those students, those kids you adore?"

"There will always be someone else to teach them long division, David. I'm not so important. There are other jobs, other opportunities. If I have to go somewhere else, if we leave and start over..."

"So we're adding your home to the list of things you'd be giving up to me," David mutters, pained. "Wonderful."

"It's just an apartment. I love it, yes, but I'd love a new home we'd find and make together more."

"And Emma?" David snaps, on edge. "Damn it Mare, do you think I didn't think of all of this? Do you think I didn't consider every possibility? Do you think I wasn't five seconds away from driving over to your place, picking you and Emma up, loading Amy and Lace in the truck, grabbing Henry, and all of us, together, making a run for it? For God's sakes Mare, I was doing a freaking cost/benefit analysis on kidnapping!"

Mary stares at him evenly. "I don't think the extremes are quite so necessary."

"They would be," David sighs, the fight going out of him. "Almost every bit as much as you can't be without me, you can't be without Em. Nor could I, really. She's our best friend, we both need her, but especially you. And Em's not going anywhere without Henry, and Henry's stuck here. It's the extremes or..."

"Or what? We just walk away from each other? _No,_" Mary snaps. "So we don't run. We stay here, together, and we fight for our life here. Or we go. We say good-bye to Emma, she'll understand, she's been rooting for us the whole time. It'll be hard, but we'll do it, and we'll keep in touch, we'll be able to visit and write and call and I'll let her talk me into buying the damn Macbook she's wanted me to buy for ages so we can videochat with whatever app it is all my students use. We'll go. Just you and me. And Ames. We'd have to leave Laci behind, I could never take her from Emma and Henry, she's really become Emma's cat more than anyone else's," she murmurs to herself more than anything else, pondering the logistics.

"Stop planning on giving up your cat!" David demands, exasperated. "Stop writing a script in your head for how you're going to say good-bye to our best friend. Stop making the list of everything you're willing to give up for me bigger by the second. We're not leaving your home, your best friend, your job, your pets, your life behind. Not for me."

"So we're staying and fighting back then. Works for me, I liked that option best anyway."

He throws his arms up in the air. "You are the most maddening woman... Fighting back won't work, not against Kathryn, not with Regina on her side. We'll lose. We'll lose everything."

"We'll have each other. _That's_ everything to me."

He looks over at her, eyes suddenly wet. "You'll resent it, and eventually resent me for it, and I wouldn't be able to blame you for a minute. They'll destroy our lives so badly that you'll come to hate me, and Mary, I can't survive that."

"I could never hate you, David. How many times do I need to tell you how in love with you I am before you'll truly believe it? I told you, it's you over everything else for me. I mean that. Whatever comes with it, I'm choosing you."

"What if I can't handle that? What if I can't accept what you're giving up?"

"It's my choice, David."

And something in his eyes finally changes, collapses in on itself, burns with agony, with a pain that she feels with him, and she wants back in his arms again, to reassure him, to make him believe that everything really is going to be alright, so long as they're together. But then out of no where, he steadies himself, his eyes close off to her, still meeting hers but breaking the connection between them with a terrifyingly cold finality, and Mary finds herself needing to bite back a scream, more afraid now than she had been the whole miserable night.

She's back where they started, all those months ago, in this very spot, at this very bridge, waiting for him with her heart in her hand and knowing what he's going to say before he says it.

"It's our choice, Mary Margaret, not yours. Both of us. I'm in this too. It's my decision every bit as much as is yours. And I'm not going to do it to you. You're not going to give up everything and everyone else in your life for me. I'm walking away."

* * *

><p>In retrospect, she would come to realize that she had actually handled the whole 'Snow White is living in my head thing' rather ridiculously calmly. Perhaps she had gone into some strange short-lived kind of shock at the time.<p>

Because it's only a couple of hours later, and she's taken another emotional hit, and calm and rational just aren't happening this time.

She's delayed in her reaction, too many seconds of just standing there, blinking at him, stunned and bewildered and more badly hurt than she'd ever be willing to admit. She wants to go home, lie down in the fetal position, lick her wounds. She wants to fight, to kick and scream. And more than anything else she wants back in his arms because she was safe there.

And maybe he can still see that, because there's something that looks disturbingly like pity breaking through the mask on his face, and she _hates_ it, more than she'd ever known she was capable of hating anything, and that's _it_, she breaks.

"_No!_" she shrieks, close to hysterical if not already there. "No, you do not get to decide my life for me, you do not get to give up, you do not get to walk away, you do not get to make me let you go! It won't happen. I am telling you right now, it won't happen, I'll never let go, I don't know how to, I don't know how to not love you! You'll always be there for me, I'll always be holding on, and you can't... I know you want more than that for me!"

"You'll move on," he tells her, voice devoid of emotion, deadened in a way she had never heard of him. "With time, Mary Margaret, you will move on, you'll be alright, you'll... you'll find... There will be someone else. You're an extraordinary woman, you'll find someone who loves you for that."

"I've found him already," she says, voice tiny. "Don't act like I haven't. I don't want anyone but you. _You_ don't want me to want anyone but you. You stand there, cold and cruel, closing yourself off to me, and still you can barely say it. You don't want me with anyone else, I don't want to be with anyone else, and still you... you try to walk away? You'd rather have me alone, forever? With all you know about me, you would do that to me?"

"You're going to have a good life. You will not have to sacrifice for me."

"How dare you?" she shrieks, bouncing back from melancholy to rage in five second flat, emotions out of her control, beyond it. "Get off your sanctimonious high horse, David! Don't act like you're doing this all for my God damn fucking good, I've told you what I want! You're doing this for yourself, so you don't have to feel bad, and you know what, you didn't have to anyway! This is you deciding we're not worth it, not me!"

His eyes change, heat somehow, and the transition from the coldness of moments before pleases her somewhere deep in her stomach, bitter and hot. She wants him mad. She wants him to hurt the way she hurts now, wants to see the proof that he's still in there, the David that she knows, the David that belongs to her.

"Don't ever say I don't think we're worth it," he demands, that same heat suddenly back in his voice.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt you? What am I supposed to say, David? What am I supposed to think? I'm right here, with you, telling you I'm ready to fight for our life together, and your response is that you're not?"

"It's too much for you to sacrifice!"

"That's my decision to make, David, and you know what, no, it's not. The situation is fucked up, it sucks, it's going to be hard, but if we don't give up, if we stay together, we can survive anything. You've decided in your head how it's going to go, that Kathryn and Regina are automatically going to win and it's not worth trying, and you know what, I don't accept that. I don't, David. I don't think they're that powerful, I don't think they're going to make such a mess of my life..."

"Then you don't know them!"

"Like hell I don't! I've dealt with Regina's cruel barbs for many years, and you know what, I know how to handle her. I knew Kathryn was a manipulative psychopath first, I found it out, I was the one who had to put myself through the torture of telling you when you were quite happy to believe she was a good, sweet woman who was having a hard time..."

"That's unfair."

"No, David, it's perfectly fair. I know who they are. I know what I'd be up against. I'm not going in blind."

"Then you must know they'd succeed! It's naive to think otherwise! You know what they'd do to us, they'd make you hate me..."

"So instead you're doing your damn best to accomplish that yourself? Are you trying to make me hate you instead?

"What? No!"

"Good, because it's not happening," she says, in tears now. "You can do your absolute worst, and it won't ever be enough. That's what it is, right? You're so damn scared of me hating you, that you're just going to go and run and hide from the possibility of it?"

_Mary. _Snow speaks up for the first time since they had reached the bridge. _Stop. Calm down. You don't want to go down this path, you don't want to hurt him like this... _

Mary ignores her. "You have so little faith in me? They can't make me hate you, David. They don't have that kind of power. You are the ONLY one who has that kind of power over me, and even you can't make me hate you. You can wreck me, you can destroy me, you can tear me apart, and you're doing one hell of a job of all of that, but you can't make me hate you. I. Love. You. What the hell is the matter with you that you can't just let me? You know what I think, I think as much as you're afraid of me hating you, you're even more scared of me loving you..."

"Don't ever say that!" he snaps, furious, wounded.

Good. So he's finally caught up.

_Mare! _Snow replies urgently, catching the gist of that thought. _Stop this, don't say it... _

"You are being a _coward_!" she shrieks. "And I will never forgive you for that!"

She feels a vicious sort of satisfaction as the tear slides down his face, and that furious determination to hurt him just as badly as she is blinds her to anything else, let alone how easily she can read the pain and hurt in his eyes again.

All she can see is red. And so she misses the connection back between them.

But she is not the only one in the body who can now see.

_Mare, stop, look at him, you've done enough, you've said enough, look at his eyes... _

"Are you happy now, are you satisfied..."

"Mary!" her body cuts her off with a verbal shout. Snow's shout.

"_What?_" she screams in reply, for anyone within miles to hear, including the broken man standing five feet away from her, stunned and terrified.

"Mare?" he breathes, forgetting himself, forgetting to stay removed, forgetting everything else but how much he loves her, walking in close, reaching for her face. "Mika?" he asks. "Has it gotten this... what's going on, are you two alright?"

"No," Mary sobs, turning away, putting some distance between them. Beaten and broken, frightened of how easily Snow had seized control, destroyed by how much she still loves him. She's just _done_. "No, you don't get to do this now. You don't get to care. You've decided... you've picked everything else, you've... you haven't picked me. And David, you picked wrong."

And with that last, broken declaration, she turns and walks away.

And he lets her.

* * *

><p>Blinded by tears, she stumbles her way through the forest.<p>

_Mary,_ Snow murmurs, sympathy so plain in her inner voice that it hurts her, one more pain to deal with.

_I can't, I can't... _

_I know. _

_I never thought he could do that to me. _

_I know. _

_You said it was true love! _

_It is. _

_No, _Mary stumbles over a tree root, lands flat on the ground, makes no effort to get back up. Rather, she leans back against the trunk of the tree that tripped her, and sobs, violently, aching cries exploding out of her into the mockingly warm, soft night air.

She sees nothing, hears nothing, senses nothing but the agony and the adored voice in her head trying to fix it.

_No, it can't be, _Mary cries. _You were wrong. This isn't... this isn't true love. True love doesn't break, nothing can hurt it. _

_And nothing has. You love him. He loves you. He's an idiot, but he believes he's doing the right thing for you. _

_He broke off the connection between us, I couldn't read him! _

_Couldn't you? _Snow asks, calmly, unfairly so.

_No... Usually I can tell how he's feeling just by looking at him, but he'd blocked that off, he'd gone so damn cold... He made us hurt each other. _

_How do you know you hurt him if you couldn't get a read on him? _

Mary freezes. _But... _

_You'd gotten through to him to some extent, Mare. That's why I yelled, that was what I was trying to get you to see. You can't break true love, Mare, not even if you're one of the people in it. Without realizing it because he doesn't know what it is, he tried, he tried to close himself off to anything and everything he feels for you, and he failed. He loves you so much, so fiercely, and he doesn't know what to do with that. To be fair, I don't think men in the situation generally do. We women are far better equipped to handle such magic. _

_What on Earth are you talking about? _

_Remember what you saw from my life earlier, _Snow says gently. _Remember what Charming told me he valued. _

_Your safety. Your well-being. Your happiness. All above any concern for himself. _

_David's the same way, Mare. The exact same way. He's got more of Charming in him than I'd even realized. _

_That still doesn't change the fact that... _

_He was an idiot about it? Indeed. But remember the order of those priorities, Mare. Safety and well-being before happiness. He knows he makes you happy. He _knows_ that. But Mare, he honestly doesn't believe that he can give you a safe and good life right now, and that's more important to him than anything. _

Tears drying in tracks on her face, breath catching, Mary starts at that comment from Snow.

_He really was doing all of that for me? _

From somewhere behind them, deep in the woods, a fallen branch snaps with the pressure of footsteps treading atop it. The fine hairs on the back of Mary's neck rise.

Neither Mary or Snow notice, too focused on each other, too focused inwards.

_Of course he was, Mare, and you know that. That wasn't about him at all, in fact he was willing to just about destroy himself to do it. That was tearing him apart inside, but he did what he thought he had to do for you. _

_But... no! What is the point of being safe, of having a decent life if you're not happy within it? _

She can almost feel Snow smile. _Now you're getting it. _

_He... he can put my safety and well-being over anything else, but I have his and my happiness first. We need each other. Someone's got to keep him from doing idiotic things in the name of protecting me. _

_Well, go back and tell him that! _

There's another noise, this one far closer, and this time it only goes unnoticed by one.

_I have to, don't I? _Mary asks. _I can still fix this! _

Mary stands up so quickly she finds herself swaying, needing to rest a hand against that rather usefully placed tree (she's forgiven it for tripping her). _God, head rush, _she giggles, suddenly delighted. She knows what to do now, knows how to convince him...

Snow has tensed horribly.

_Snow? _

_Something's wrong, I just felt... Your '6th sense' Mare, I just got access to it, and something's wrong. _

_How can you feel something I don't... _

_Don't argue! Pay attention to your surroundings Mare, you need to give us your senses back. You've been unaware too long, crying, distracted, and this... I don't like this... _

Mary spins, and finds herself face-to-face with a tall, reasonably good-looking man she'd never seen before.

She gasps out a surprised shriek, quieter than she would have expected or hoped, more an expelling of air than noise; and backs up a few startled paces.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," the man says. "I didn't at all mean to startle you."

"It's okay," Mary says, catching her breath even as she backs up a few wary steps further. "It happens to the best of us."

_More space, _Snow mutters, tense. _Keep backing up. Something isn't right. _

"Indeed," he replies, with a quick flash of a disarmingly charming grin, taking measured steps towards her, matching her own backing away. " A terrible accident on my part, I'm afraid. This would have been way easier with you not paying attention."

The more she stares at him, the more clear it becomes.

His bright eyes are crazed.

* * *

><p>He doesn't know when he ended up on the ground, or how. Somewhere in the back of his brain, he's aware he's probably filthy, sitting in the muddy wetness of the bank that Mary had pulled him onto so long ago, saving him from the water he would have drowned in.<p>

He doesn't care.

His body shakes with aching sobs, as his mind replays the image of Mary's hurt, betrayed eyes, torturing him with it.

It had been so much worse than he'd imagined it, the way he kept hurting her, the way he couldn't do anything right, the way he kept giving her hope back, kept getting caught up, kept wanting her, fiercely, desperately, and then turning around and pushing him away.

The way her body had relaxed when he'd hauled her into his arms, the way she'd grinned into his possessive kiss, the relief she'd felt when she'd thought she'd convinced him, when they both did, because he'd lost his head and his heart to her.

He'd only managed to hurt them both worse.

"God damn it!" he roars into the night, hating everything, everything that wasn't _her_, hating himself most of all.

She'd move on, she had to, he couldn't stand to think of her alone and waiting for him forever. But then again, she was so right, the idea of her moving on he somehow hated even more. The mere thought of her with anyone else had sent him into a blind, possessive rage, and he figured the one damn right thing he'd done all night was to restrain himself from hissing "Mine," from grabbing her and proving it to her the way he'd been tempted to, the way he'd been so close to doing when she'd brought the topic up.

He was so screwed, he thought, so wrecked. He'd ruined them both, and they'd just keep paying for it. Storybrooke was such a small town, there would be no way to avoid her completely, they would run into each other, they would see each other, and there's no way that would go well.

He can already picture himself running into her at Granny's when all they both want is a coffee, can see himself losing all sight of anything but her, approaching her, wrapping a hand around her wrist, hauling her out of the building and into the alley between two buildings down the way, lifting her up against the brick wall and burying himself deep inside of her, having her, reminding them both, leaving no doubt as to who she belongs to.

Hurting them both all over again.

He'd leave, would walk away. They both would, with no other choice.

Both knowing it would happen again, and it would.

They'd get caught up in it, a vicious cycle of having each other without having anything at all.

He hates the images playing through his mind.

Hates himself even more for how much he wants it, wants it even now, wants to go after her, find her, find that alley, hell, find a flat surface. And for that, knows exactly how inevitable it is. It'll happen. He won't be able to resist it, won't be able to stop himself.

He is a weak man, when it comes to her.

His wordless shout of fury gets strangled in his throat as he buries his head in his hands, and unseeing, it's enough to startle him terribly when he hears his name called.

"David?" Emma asks, running towards him, reaching him in seconds, grabbing his hands to pull them away, to make it so that she can see him, to make him look at her. "What the hell is going on tonight, are you alright?"

"No," he cries, and he can hear the tears in his own voice, knows how pathetic he must look to her, decides that it's good, that he deserves it, that he is every bit as pathetic as she must see him. "No, I'm not. I've wrecked it, wrecked everything, broken Mary's heart, broke both of us."

Emma recoils, dropping his hands, backing away. "What did you do, David?" she asks, a dread she wouldn't have ever expected to experience for another person clear in her voice.

He closes his eyes, unable to look at her, the judgement in her eyes. (She should hate him too).

"I ended it," he mutters, bitterly.

Emma shakes her head in denial. "No... you wouldn't... you wouldn't do that to her. You couldn't have."

"I did."

"You're in love with her! I know you are, I've watched it happen, don't tell me it's not... I've spent my whole life believing love was a giant load of crap and then I get a front row seat to you two and I finally believe in something, believe in it, believe that real bright and shiny love is actually possible. Look at you now! You can't deal with it, with not being with her, so _why_?"

"Me, I think," announces someone from behind her.

David lifts his head at the same time Emma spins around.

Kathryn has arrived.

* * *

><p>Finding a strength he would have sworn he no longer had in him, David throws himself to his feet, positions himself between Emma and Kathryn.<p>

"Get. The. Hell. Out. Of. Here," he snarls.

"Now that's no way to talk to your wife, is it dear?" Kathryn asks sardonically. "We're really going to have to work on that. People would judge."

"I've got the week," he snaps. "I've got the week to be away from you, and you will let me have that."

"No, no, you had a week to end things with your tramp. You've accomplished that well, bravo," she proclaims with a sarcastic, mocking slow clap. "Very quick, I enjoyed the speed of it, the emotion. You might as well have ripped her poor little heart out."

Something in David's eyes flashes with a dangerous rage. "You were _watching_?"

"Of course. Had to ensure you came through. I admit, it looked for some time like you were going to fail. Such _weakness_, David. But you got it together in the end, I must respect that. Or at least I thought I would. Not too impressed to see you turning straight to the other woman in you life right afterwards. It's inappropriate, really."

Rage, hot and sick boils over in him at the implication, turning his stomach for some reason even as it enrages him. "Go to hell," he seethes.

"What the hell is going on?" Emma demands from behind him.

David laughs, wildly, fueled by anger. "You want to know? You'll love this, Em. My wholesome wife here threatened Mare. Said if I didn't end things with Mary, go back to her, she'd tear Mare's life to shreds. Which, granted, giant load of crap, except she's got our corrupt witch of a mayor on her side, and that's the real threat. Apparently Madam Mayor is fully prepared to yank Henry from Mare's class, and then promptly turn around and go to the Board of Education for Mary's job. Not to mention her reputation in town,"

"David, there's no way, Mary's done nothing wrong..."

"You haven't been living in this town long enough to know how this town's people will respond to adultery," Kathryn sniffs. "Ms Blanchard is a dirty slut, and Regina and I were fully prepared to make sure everyone in this town knew it."

"You psychotic bitch," Emma seethes. "You're not going to get away with this..."

"Oh, I don't have to, darling. David came through, which means your mousy little friend can keep her sad little life together," she cocks her head at David, "though announcing my plans to everyone else involved was definitely not part of the deal. There will be consequences for that much, dear husband of mine."

"Okay, you know what?" Emma starts.

"Fuck off," David and Emma proclaim simultaneously, before David turns to Emma.

"She's at home by now, right?"

Emma's face twists in confusion. "What do you mean? No. She was at home, something was wrong - now I understand what - but I left to get Henry home for dinner, and when I made it back ten minutes later, she was gone. I was worried about her, she seemed so out of it, so I came out here because I thought maybe she'd be with you..."

"She was, we were together the whole time... Wait, what do you mean something was wrong?"

"She'd gone... like she does," she starts, glancing warily off to the side at an oddly concerned looking Kathryn. "But it wasn't like it usually was, something happened, that time, she was so pale... but you broke up with her, that has to have been why she was upset!"

"She left me a half hour ago," David tells her. "You saw her after?"

Fear is beginning to make Emma's eyes go huge. "A half hour ago? No, David, I saw her hours ago!"

She wouldn't have expected David could go paler than he already was, but she was proven wrong. "She did say she needed to talk to me about something in her text..." he mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

"You hadn't broken up with her yet?" Emma demands. "Everything was still good with you two? Then what the hell was going on when I saw her?!"

"I don't know, Em! She didn't tell me, didn't get the chance to, I fucked it up, and now I've got to find her!"

"Mary Margaret isn't your concern," Kathryn tries, though some emotion he can't read has slipped through her cold mask. "Sheriff Swan is fully capable of..."

"Shut up!" David and Emma yell, again as one.

"You're not going to win," David snarls, looking Kathryn dead in the eye. "I'm going to find her, I'm going to fix this, and we're going to _fight _you on this, and you're going to lose, because she is worth everything!"

Kathryn stares up at him with surprisingly frightened eyes, while Emma smirks behind him. For a moment, all is absolutely quiet.

The silence finally breaks, with a piercing, terrified wordless scream from deep within the woods.

All three of them spin towards the sound, horror struck, though only David responds otherwise.

He knows that scream. He's heard it in nightmares.

"Mare!" he bellows back into the woods, as loud as he is capable of, his horror making him louder still, tearing the words from his throat.

There is no response.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: So. That was evil of me now, wasn't it? <strong>_

_**This chapter took an absurdly long time, and I have no excuses for that, aside from the fact that Mare and David made it very, very difficult to write. Clearly they didn't want any of this to happen. Clearly they want all of this fixed, and they'd come around that way by the end, and I had to wreck it by going all evil. **_

_**Let's blame Jefferson. It was obvious it was him, right? If not, well, I'll tell you guys it here, because that much I can tell you. It's him. Handsome pain in the ass now, isn't he? **_

_**Now, bringing back Q&A from/for you all... **_

_From someone on anon: _

_And it's cute they consider themselves "sisters" when really MM is just Snow weaker side. I'm dreading what's going to happen now though with Kathryn's ultimatum. Maybe somehow Snow can wake Charming up? _

**_Included more than just your question... because what in this story made you think that's all Mary is? Remember, I've clearly gone off the rails as to how the show did everything. It's almost at the point of this story being AU. And Mare is much, much more than Snow's weakness. _**

**_As for Charming... we shall see. Things are different for him than they are for Snow. _**

_From SnowandJames4eva: _

_Mary gets that Emma is HER daughter, right...? _

**_Is she? :) ;) _**

_From Snowing gosh: _

_how will Snow get out from Mary's head? _

**_Now that's a pickle, isn't it? I believe our lovely ladies are starting to worry about that themselves. It's two people, one body, and that can't last forever. _**

_Finally, from ChippedCups-BrokenHearts: _

_Will Regina find out Snow remembers or will it all be revealed at once when everyone remembers? _

**_Oh, answering that now wouldn't be any fun now, would it? _****_I've got a master plan. All will be revealed... eventually. _**

**_And I guess I'd better be quick to get working on the next chapter then, so you all can have a few more pieces of that master plan. _**

**_I'm still tweeting at icingsfanfic, for anyone who's interested in updates and the occasional sneak peek. I rather adore my followers, so they get to know all my little secrets... or at least, far more secrets than anyone who just reads my Author's Notes does. (If that's not a bribe I don't know what it is). But yeah, come, follow me because I follow back and you've got a new way of yelling at me when I take too long to update. Seriously - yell at me, I deserve it. Three months between chapters is unacceptable. _**

**_Hope this chapter was enough to get you all to forgive me. Please do let me know what you think of it, because I was kind of terrified the whole time I was writing it. Reviews keep me going, guys! _**

**_Thanks, as always, for reading. _**


	18. Back to Her

**_Author's Note: To prevent any confusion, I'll just say this: the fact that Charming's 'real' name on the show is David never appealed to me. At all. I didn't like Charming being the only person besides Regina who carried his Fairy Tale name to Storybrooke, and I didn't like that it blurred the lines so much. Charming on the show is completely different from David Nolan, and I *hate* the fact that they gave him the same name. So in this story, creative / artistic license and all, I went a different route. _  
><strong>

**_This chapter is dedicated to Aubrey, Lorena, and Erinn, who through a twitter contest I held, earned the right to submit their wishes for flashbacks Snow would have in this chapter. I only hope that I did your chosen moments justice. _**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen: Back to Her<strong>

She was pretty sure he should be having a harder time adjusting. Going from cave to hollowed out tree, to abandoned mine shafts, finding shelter wherever it was available, hiding out, being constantly on the move, watching one's back, always... all of that after a life spent living in the highest luxury of the royal castles?

She had made that transition too, once. It was agony. She hadn't slept for weeks, too constantly terrified for it, trapped into living her life on the edge of death.

And here he was, accepting life on the run like he was born to it.

It wasn't the same thing, granted. She had spent many, many months living such a life. They were hopeful that they'd only have to do this together for a couple of weeks. Just long enough to gain some support.

No bid to seize their kingdoms, to unite them as one, would be successful without the support of the people, though they didn't figure that should be too difficult to gain. Regina was outright loathed in her own kingdom, and George deeply mistrusted in Charming's.

She didn't know Charming's kingdom too well, but she knew her own. Her people had been willing to bow to her when she was still a child, as uncomfortable as it had felt at the time.

She was born to lead them. Regina wasn't.

They couldn't very well go marching in and announce a takeover though, at least not without getting crushed. The dwarves would always have her back, and Red and Granny were wonderful, but they were powerless against Regina's forces... the army that should have been Snow's own to command.

They needed men who would be willing to die for them.

It hurt her heart to think of the men who had been forced to die for Regina.

The only conflicts in the kingdoms now were of Regina's creation. Unnecessary. Senseless. Cruel.

She tried hard not to think about the reasoning behind them.

Yes, they needed men, needed support, needed to know that should they attempt to seize power, they would be accepted, and so they took to the woods. The dwarves hadn't been thrilled with the idea, Grumpy especially insisting he should come along, to both her own and Charming's immediate, steadfast refusal.

Two people on the run from a murderous witch and vengeful king were hard enough to keep alive.

They didn't want anyone else's life in their hands to carry.

Their efforts had been reasonably successful thus far. They had managed to sneak into three of the villages that most outwardly bordered the woods they lived in, and the people had been responsive, willing to listen. Even eager, if she was being honest with herself, eager for a royal family who cared about their own.

They'd only run into Regina's men once, and there had only been three.

Between the two of them, they'd been taken care of easily, and with profound regret.

She hadn't recognized any of them as her father's men, which meant they'd been recruited by Regina, trained with hatred, molded to desire her own death almost as much as Regina did.

But they were human. And any human life taken, even in necessity, even in the attempt to save herself, or more importantly to save Charming, cut deeper than she ever wanted anyone to know or see.

Charming saw anyway.

They'd made it back to her favourite hideaway, an cave bourn of a fallen tree, ancient, enormous, and conveniently hollowed out, nature's gift to her. The dwelling meant a lot to her, the very one Charming had trapped her in a net outside of, so long ago, starting their story.

It had been a mostly uneventful voyage back, if you discounted the three hours spent hiding in trees so as not to be spotted by guards on patrol.

The most difficult part of that had been managing not to laugh every time she glanced over at Charming in his tree, only to find him making a funny face back at her, plainly mocking the guards marching below them.

The slightest snort of laughter could have gotten them in trouble, but how typical for Charming to trust her enough to hold it back and allow him to keep her entertained for the duration of the wait.

The guards had finally abandoned their post by nightfall, for which they had been ready. "Not overly impressive, are they?" Charming had called over as he made his way carefully down his own tree. "You'd think Regina would have told them that us troublemakers tend to come out _after_ dark."

"Quit asking for trouble, Charming," she'd drawled back from safely down on the forest floor, having leapt down from one of the lower branches. "Focus on getting down. Slowly. Take your time. There's a reason I'm so much faster than you. And it's that I've never nearly broken all of my limbs while descending from a tree."

He'd only chuckled in reply as he skimmed down the lower tree bank, delighting in her. "Your teasing wounds me, my darling, but does not discourage me in the slightest. Just you and me out in these woods, you'll make a bandit of me yet." He'd nudged her in the shoulder then, as he finally reached the forest floor, a taunt. "And until then, my beautiful Snow, I shall just have to be satisfied with out-racing you back."

He'd waited for the confusion to twist her features, before the slightly devilish grin she'd first encountered from a net dangling twenty feet off the grown crossed his own face, and he'd taken off running deeper into the woods towards their tiny safe haven.

"Cheat!" she had shouted after him, kicking her shoes off, grabbing them and taking off running in a single motion, figuring she was better off running barefoot.

He'd had the head start, but she still knew these woods better than he, and though he crossed the threshold into their tree first, she'd made it a far closer race than he'd planned on.

"I win," he breathed, winded, as he hauled her into his arms for the embrace that they both always needed by the end of every day, another day that they'd survived together.

"You cheat," she replied, gasping for air, having given the chase everything she had in her. Not considered appropriate behaviour for the princess she still was somewhere inside, but Charming wouldn't have had her as anything but her feisty, competitive self, and his was the only opinion that mattered to her.

Besides, she had more the bandit, the warrior in her now. The princess had been beaten and broken out of her by necessity.

Her prince was bringing the princess back though. Her prince wanted all of her, every side, every nuance, every piece.

Oh, did she love him. That was the only certainty she had in her life anymore, the only part of her self she felt sure of.

She was his.

And that really felt like it was all that mattered anyway.

"All's fair," he breathed into her hair, pulling her back from distraction.

"In love and war," she finishes with a sigh. "And we've got a little of both."

"No," he shakes his head. "Just love. With us, always just love."

She hums in agreement, content.

"We must rest now," he murmurs, pulling her towards the pile of blankets and furs they've managed to scavenge together for their temporary residence. "My darling, it's been a long day, and there are many more long days ahead of us. Come lie down with me."

"I'm not gonna argue," she replies while allowing him to lead her, her words slurred with the effort to stifle a yawn.

"That has to be a first," he says with a smile, rearranging them both until they were comfortably curled against each other on their makeshift bed.

"Hmm?"

"Doing exactly as I say, immediately, without argument?"

"I can be cooperative," she argues, though she thinks the sternness in her voice may be undermined by the way she's burying her face into the crook of his neck. "Sometimes. When I agree with you."

The vibration of his chuckle tickles. "Of course, darling."

They are both quiet for a long time, though each knows the other's every breath well enough to know that neither of them have fallen asleep.

She's the one who speaks first, finally. "That village seemed particularly willing to listen to us today."

"Mmm," he agrees with a hum. "Most of them still seemed loyal to your father. They see you as their rightful queen. They'll support us."

"We've gotten that impression from most of the people we've spoken with," she says, slowly, thinking as she speaks. "From both of our kingdoms. Regina and George are not well liked or respected. We are."

"They've both ruled selfishly," Charming points out. "And often cruelly. They care about little more than their own desires, to our people's detriment. They won't stand for it longer, my darling. Not if there's another choice, a better choice. We can win."

"We have the men," she starts, biting her lip. "Or we'll get them, anyway. We can defeat Regina's army. But Charming... when Regina gives up on all else but getting to me, and we know that she will eventually... my darling, we're going to need magic."

Something in his eyes hardens. "No."

She's quiet for a long time afterwards, considering. The fairies had helped her out once, and their magic was good, but they'd done it because they owed Grumpy. Grumpy had insisted to her under his breath that they were far from even, and that The Blue Fairy knew it, that she would come through for them again, would always come through for them, because the debt she had to him could never be fully paid.

She'd known her friend better than to push him for more information than that.

She speaks up again, cautiously, knowing her love well enough to know when she's broaching a sore spot for him. "The fairies helped me once before. Grumpy says they would again. Their magic is good, Charming. They're good."

"All magic comes with a price," he replies, far more gently than she'd expected. "I'm not willing to pay it."

"I know you don't trust Rumplestilskin..." she starts.

"It's more than that," he sighs.

"Can you tell me what?"

He sits up, pulling her with him, though they're still so entangled that she might as well be in his lap. He's quiet for a moment, just staring at her.

There's something broken in his eyes. Something that's always been there, but never this evident. She feels something twist in her stomach.

"You deserve to know," he whispers. "But I'm so terrified that it will change how you feel about me."

"Nothing would. _Ever_."

"Even if I'm not who you think I am?"

Her expression doesn't change. "You're exactly who I think you are."

"I'm not," he whispers, suddenly unable to look at her. "I'm not the prince. I'm not James. I'm nobody."

She reaches for him, touches his face, gently, but doesn't make any movement to force him to look back at her. She waits, quietly, until he feels ready to make that move on his own.

She's certain her love and adoration for him is written all over her face, and indeed, she can read the surprise on his own, as some kind of hope comes back into his eyes.

"You may not be George's son. But my Charming, please do not doubt that you are your kingdom's prince."

"You... you're not surprised?"

She looks at him evenly. "When you wrote me the letter, asking me to come to you... you know I came. You know I felt the same way. And you know I ran into George."

Charming's eyes close slowly in understanding. "He told you."

"He told me next to nothing. Just that you weren't his son. And I knew. I knew when he threatened you. When he forced me to lie to you, to break your heart. He told me he would kill you, and in my gut, I knew then. No parent... Parents protect their children at all costs. That he would be willing to kill you, worse that he would be willing to blackmail me into hurting you so deeply... I knew he couldn't be your father."

"And you didn't..."

"It didn't change anything for me. It _didn't,_ Charming."

"I lied to you. Almost from the beginning. I told you my name was James..."

"And I told you I still like Charming better."

The laugh is rough, as if startled out of him, but it's there, and she grasps onto it with determination.

"I'm serious, Charming. You've been Charming to me from the time you had me caught in that net. You've been the best prince I've ever met from the moment I realized I owed my life to you. You know how few people would have done what you did for me? After I was, admittedly, a rather spectacular pain in your ass? No other royal would have done it, I can tell you that much. You are strong, and brave, fair and true, steadfast in what you believe in, and Gods, are you ever _good_. You are the prince that every kingdom should hope for and so few are lucky enough to actually get. And Charming," she tries, voice cracking as she lifts up her left hand to show him the jewel that sparkles on it, "I have loved you from the very second I tried on this ring. I've loved _you_. I've loved the person you are, not whatever person you've got in your head that Prince James should be. I love _you_. Charming. _My_ Charming."

He looks floored, as if she'd whacked him over the head - admittedly not an out of character move for her at all - instead of giving him an increasingly passionate lecture about exactly who he was to her.

Okay, so maybe she'd gone a little overboard, she thought as she felt the flush heat her cheeks. Still. He'd needed to hear it.

"I mean it," she whispers. "This changes nothing for me. You, to me, will always be Charming. I know who Charming is. I love Charming. I love the man you've always been for me."

"And I love you," he murmurs. "So much, it stuns me. I always think I've gotten a grasp on the depth of what I feel for you, and you go and say something like that, and I can just feel myself falling even further for you."

She smiles at him, convinced he's starting to understand.

"My past..."

"Is your past," she interrupts. "If you want to share it with me, that would mean the world to me. If not, that's okay too. I don't need to know."

"You deserve to know," he contradicts gently. Something in his eyes warms, warmer than she had ever known blue eyes could be, before meeting him. "And more importantly," he continues, smiling, "I want you to know. You're the only person in this world I've ever wanted to know."

She settles back into his arms, letting him pull her back. He'll end up murmuring his story into her hair, but that's just fine for them both. She can hear him fine, and the light, almost flowery scent that permeated her curls whether she had recently washed or not always calmed him.

She doesn't say a word while he tells his story, though she knows he can feel her reactions. Feels her pain for his family, her fury towards King George. Feels it as she increasingly tenses up the more he explains about Rumplestilskin's role, feels it as her opinion towards the imp changes from a wary kind of respect to a tense, pulsing dislike. Not fear though. Never fear. Snow White is probably the only person in all the kingdoms who has never been afraid of Rumplestilskin, and for Charming, it's a reason for fierce pride in her.

One of many, of course.

They get comfortable. They curl around each other, wrapped up in blankets. His voice slows and steadies into a solid rhythm as his story comes to a close with a carriage stopped by a fallen tree, and she finds herself blinking sleepily, suddenly looking so young, like a child soothed to sleep with a bedtime story that ended happily.

"Do you have any questions?" he asked, placing a kiss to the top of her head with a gentle slide of his lips.

"Mmm," she hums, forcing herself awake. "Just the one. What's your birth name?" she asks with a half smile.

He chuckles lightly, under his breath. "Aaron. I am Charming now, but as a boy, as a shepherd, I was Aaron."

"Aaron," she tries, dragging it out, wrapping her tongue around the word, feeling the taste of her love's true birth name on her lips.

"You approve?"

"It's beautiful." She grins then, vibrantly. "But I still like Charming better."

His laugh, delighted and real, seemed to echo through their tiny, ad-libbed home.

* * *

><p>Memory, such as it is, is a funny thing. The hours that were in real time get compressed into tiny flashes of sensation, over in seconds, but nothing lost. Memory, she had always figured, was more about the feeling, than the details. Quick. Consuming.<p>

And at times, damn near debilitating. Particularly when the memory experienced is not one's own.

Snow can tell it had barely been a minute, if that, since the memory had taken over her, every bit as much as she senses it has distracted Mary. The man's steps towards them have remained measured and unrushed, but he has gained on Mary - gained on them both - anyway as Mary's steps backwards staggered just slightly.

She can still feel the memory floating in the back of their shared mind, dreamy around the edges, unable to let it go, regardless of the blatant danger they're in.

_Charming. _

They're _so_ close.

She can't lose herself to him now. She refuses to. It's been too long, too hard, for it to end like this.

_Mary! _she screams internally, roaring it, feeling the pain of the yell reverberate back to her own part of their head.

Mary shakes her head back and forth a few times, as if punch-drunk. _You... the fairy tale didn't... Aaron? _

_Charming! _Snow shrieks. _It's Charming. And Charming, and David, we need to get back to them! Whatever this bastard is up to, we can't let him hurt us! It's time to run, Mare! _

_Run...? _

_RUN! _

It's a stumbling start, but just as the crazed-eyed man's face settles into terrifying satisfaction, Mary turns away, and immediately begins tearing through the trees.

Running as if her life depended on it.

* * *

><p>Charming was watching her. And not in a fun way.<p>

She'd tell him off if she could find the energy for it, but everything she has in her is focused on trying to calm her churning stomach. She's pale, she knows she has to be, the natural glow she's used to having just not possible when she's feeling like this, and she knows he can see the difference, as she can practically feel the concern wafting off of him.

She dares to glance up at him, and as suspected, he's staring at her, something sharp and alarmed in his eyes. She feels her lips twist into an almost smirk that would have come to fruition had she felt just the slightest bit better, and she silently begins counting to herself, waiting for it.

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5... _

"This is absurd," he abruptly barks to anyone who would listen.

_There it is. _

She has to laugh at that, but a surge of nausea seizes her mid-giggle, and it trails of into a groan before she can hide it.

"Stop the carriage," Charming calls out to their driver. "_Now_, please."

With a quick pull of the reigns, the horses immediately halt, bringing the carriage to a lurching stop, and the man who commanded the horses comes around to peek into the carriage, standing at attention, waiting for further instructions.

Her stomach feels very much as if it's in her throat.

_That's helpful. _

"I'm fine, Charming. Really. Michel, you can get going again," she tries to instruct their driver.

"Yes," Charming agrees. "_Home._ Turn the carriage back, please."

"Do no such thing!" She glares at her husband, though it's even more half-hearted than usual. She really can never stay angry with him, especially tonight, and if anything, she just feels kind of amused. "I will not miss Ella's wedding, Charming."

"Ella and Thomas will understand," he tries.

"Ella and Thomas don't have to understand anything. We are going to be at their wedding," she proclaims, and there's an impressive note of finality in her voice for someone who is doubled over holding her stomach.

Charming throws his arms in the air, exasperated. "Michel. Home. Now."

Snow looks back up, challenging. "Michel. Thomas's castle. Now."

For a long moment, everything is quiet, Michel looking back and forth between his princess and prince, bewildered, horrified, and without a clue as to what he should actually do. Glancing to the side of the carriage where the valet and his best friend, Pierce stands at attention, he finds himself scowling.

He can only see Pierce's shadow, but can see it well enough to know that Pierce's shoulders are shaking, with an extraordinarily token effort at holding laughter in.

"Majesties," Michel starts, taking pains to ensure that none of his annoyance with his friend and co-worker is evident in his voice, "Shall we just... stay here until we have come to an agreement as to what we should do?"

"No need," Charming proclaims. "My wife is clearly sick..."

"Not!" she interrupts.

"Your stomach thinks otherwise."

"Travel sickness is not uncommon."

"Yes," Charming agrees. "For people who are not you. You've never been sick on a voyage in your life. This is clearly something else, so we shall get you home, in bed, where I can have Doc come take a look at you. I'm not going to argue about this further."

There is something extraordinarily amused, perhaps even delighted in her eyes as she stares at him quietly for several very long moments, before her mouth twists into the slightly taunting grin that he both loves and hates, loves because it's so perfectly Snow, hates because that particular grin never works out well for him.

"Michel," she starts, "how long have you worked for Charming?"

She knows her prince knows exactly where she's going with this, when he rolls his eyes into a smirk he can't seem to help. The expression is so breathtakingly familiar to her, beloved for it, for it's the exact expression he wore as she hung from a net explaining to him how royal marriages worked. Licking his bottom lip, his tongue even makes the same appearance it did back then, and she feels her stomach suddenly twist with desire, a feeling as far from nausea as it could possibly get.

_Now that's better. _

This, she could work with.

Suddenly feeling so much better, she sits back up straight, leaning back against her seat, pulling her gloved hands off her stomach to cup the back of her head. Relaxed, reclined, comfortable.

"Michel?" she asked again, making it clear she expected a response.

"Eight months, your highness, and an honour all the while."

She hums, pleased despite herself. "And how long have you worked for me?"

Something impossibly fond is plain in Michel's face at that. "Almost twenty-nine years. From the day you were born, Princess, the brightest, most beautiful gift our kingdom could have asked for."

She doesn't even bother to try to hide her smile. "And how long did you work for Regina?"

The driver goes silent, never comfortable speaking about it.

From outside the carriage, Pierce speaks up. "Not for a second, for he would die before he would betray you or your father's memory. He went into hiding the day you disappeared, at which point he met me, and we survived together as beggars traveling from village to village until the glorious day when you returned to seize back the kingdom that was rightfully yours."

It had indeed been one of the most stunning moments of their triumph, when three days after they'd taken back her kingdom, they'd been holding an open session to allow her people to come speak to them, express their concerns, their needs. They'd seen so many people, and her heart had broken just a little bit more with each, at the understanding of how badly Regina had failed them all. Midway through a long line, two men, one old, one young, had hobbled in together, badly malnourished, dressed only in rags. They'd immediately kneeled before their thrones, and she and Charming had protested at once, insisting they stand before them as equals, as they had with each and every visitor they'd received.

When the old man had stood back up, the effort involved in pushing himself back to his feet slid his hood from his head, allowing him to be seen clearly.

She had only just managed to hold back a broken scream.

_She recognized him immediately, the man who had always been so kind to her, sneaking her a treat before they set off for every long voyage to visit another kingdom. He had aged, so so much, life in seclusion breaking him down, and it had horrified her to see it. His face was gaunt and thin, far too thin to be healthy, and she feared for him. _

"_Majesties," he croaked. "Princess. I am so humbled to see you back on your rightful throne. It never belonged to The Evil Queen, and indeed, I refused to serve her. I walked out from this castle the very day that you disappeared, and I never once believed a word of what she accused you of. I stand before you today, with a dear friend, a man I trust with my life, to beg for the job I once held for this house, for your family. I was loyal to your father, and now I ask of you the chance to prove my loyalty to you and your fiance." _

_She very nearly sobbed. "Your loyalty has already been proven a hundred times over, Michel. You shall be honoured, you shall be granted with knighthood of the highest legion." _

"_It is an honour to have my princess speak of me thus. But if it is all the same to you, your highness, I would be most happiest to return to my former position as driver, with Pierce here as my recommended choice for valet. I have missed working with my beloved horses so." _

"_Of course," Charming declared, speaking for Snow upon realizing that she had reached the point of too moved to speak. "The honour would be entirely ours to entrust you both with our travel. We do not have any business elsewhere for several weeks. We must insist that you both take that time to eat and rest well, to gain some strength back after what has been an impossible time for us all. Your former lodgings here at the castle, they will be acceptable?" _

_Michel's eyes went wide, so big, too big in his sunken face. "It would be more than I could have hoped for, majesty. It will be our honour to serve you." _

_As the two men turned to walk away then, she'd called out. _

"_Michel?" she asked. _

"_Yes, your highness?" _

"_Thank you." _

"_Always, my princess." _

It had pained her deeply to see Michel struggling so back then, but he was strong and resilient, and a few short weeks of living humanely had done wonders for his health, restoring him to the same cheerful driver she'd known all her life.

He still slipped her treats before long voyages.

"You have always been loyal to the House of White," she says, sweet as sugar.

Michel is already sliding his gaze over to Charming, apologetically pleading in a look.

The prince is trying very hard not to laugh. It's tough going. "I think I've been beaten, Michel," he finally admits. "Please continue to Prince Thomas's kingdom as originally planned."

Michel is impressively stoic as he responds. "Of course, majesties."

He cannot resist the urge - playful, youthful spirit that age and life haven't broken out of him yet - to flick Pierce in the side of the head as he walks by on his return to his post at the front of the carriage.

The younger man still laughs.

Back within reasonable privacy, Charming just looks at her, concern still obvious in his face, waring with the amusement he can never quite beat back when it comes to her.

"We will go to the wedding, my darling, but when we get back home, you're going to be good and co-operate with me and Doc, so we can find out what is wrong."

"I wonder how many times I shall have to tell you nothing _is_ wrong before you actually believe me."

"You've been clutching at your stomach on and off for at least a fortnight," Charming starts. "Don't tell me that's not wrong. Every time we're in the carriage, every single morning when we first wake up..."

"The mornings are quite normal, Charming," she says with an indulgent smile. "And the carriage..." she starts, rubbing at her stomach, "Well my best guess tells me that someone has about the same level of patience for long rides as their daddy."

Something inside of him must seize up, with the same bewildered hope she'd felt when she realized a few days earlier. He looks like someone who has just watched all of their dreams come true at once, right before their very eyes, and is now trying figure out if it is actually real, if it _could_ be real.

"Snow..." he breathes, and knowing him so well, she recognizes his need for her to say it outright, to spell it out for him completely, before he will let himself believe.

"I'm pregnant, Charming," she breathes, and she knows her paleness must be improving, her glow coming back, as the radiant smile spreads across her face.

Everything feels warm.

"I'm pregnant," she repeats. "We're having a baby."

And the wonder she knows he feels has lit him up from the inside out, and he hauls her up from her side of the carriage with a wordless shout of joy, pulls her over so she is in his arms, carefully sitting in his lap, and for a moment everything is completely perfect.

"Baby, baby, baby," he chants, and the laugh explodes out of her, breathless with it. "We're really having a baby?"

"I'm told that's what comes out of being pregnant," she tells him, too fond. "And let's face it, it was only a matter of time for us..."

"Amazing it didn't happen earlier," he agrees, trying for solemn and missing it by a mile. "There have been many opportunities."

She laughs again, delighted by him. "That was all just practice."

He raises an eyebrow at her, playing with her, though too happy to control his expression as he usually would be able to for their games. "I had no idea practice could be such fun."

She curls an arm around his neck, still securely placed in his lap. "Too true. We should probably keep practicing. You know, for future purposes and all."

"Yes, lots and lots of practice. Never enough practice. I'm a big fan of the practicing."

"It's important in all things," she nods, hitting the solemn that he just couldn't manage. "Practice makes you better."

He gapes at her, going all out, jaw dropped and all. "There's a _better_?"

And okay, he's won this round of the teasing game they tend to play together, because the laugh that escapes her then is wild and unrestrained, and she knows there's no way she can pull together a straight face now. "Shut up," she tries through giggles.

He just grins at her, unrepentant and smug and altogether delighted with his life.

"You are happy though," she says, sure of it, but wanting to hear him say it all the same.

"Oh, Snow," he murmurs. "Happy doesn't even begin to cover it. Language hasn't invented the words to cover what I'm feeling right now."

She beams at him, big and open. "Okay," she whispers.

He hums, satisfied, and for a moment or two, all is quiet, before he speaks up once more. "Are you gonna tell me if it's a boy or a girl now?" he asks, a note of child-like excitement in his voice that would be obvious to no one but her.

She shakes her head, smug, some child-likeness in her too.

_I know something you don't know. _

"Nope!" she announces with some delight, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "It shall still be a surprise."

"Best surprise I'll ever have," he proclaims, so certain that she has to kiss him for it. Flirtatious, but light, because she knows them and they can get out of control quick, and dressed in formal attire on their way to their friends' wedding, in the carriage driven by a man who's known her forever... well it's far from ideal circumstances for out of control.

She's pregnant and she's in his arms, and he's kissing her so gently, as if she's something infinitely precious, and she guesses maybe, to him, she is.

* * *

><p>They're running for their life, and still memory seizes her.<p>

She wonders if this is what it is to die, to see one's life flashing, and berates herself for the thought, hoping to every God she can think of that it didn't filter through to Mary.

Mary is pushing their body as far as it will go, ignoring the burn in her legs, her pounding heart. Stopping is not an option, as their pursuer seems to gain on them with every step.

_Scream, _she commands, though it comes across more begging than she'd really hope for. Mare needs her to stay steady, but there's no hiding the dread in her voice. _Mare, come on, scream! _

But something in Mary is still listening to her, maybe nothing more than the sheer trust they have in each other, because Mary cries out, and it is loud, shrill, and piercing, and there's no doubting the terror in it. If there's someone nearby who could help...

There is no one.

No one close enough to help anyway, for there's a moment, just a second, where she could swear she could hear David calling for Mary, desperate and agonized, and from so far away that it's just easier to believe that it was just her imagination.

Because if it was really him, from that far away...

He can't get there in time to save them.

* * *

><p>There is a cruelness to how easily she gets to him. Or the reflection of him, anyway.<p>

In hindsight, she should have known. Of course it was a trick. Of course it was a taunt. Of course it was all a ploy, meant to lure her in.

Regina was no fool. She had known she would come for him, known she would have risked anything, everything, her own life in a second, to find him.

Of course Regina had used that against her. What other weakness did she really have at that point, besides her miraculously continued capacity for love?

He's smiling at her, sadly, and she wonders where he finds the strength to do it. It's taking everything she has in her just to stay upright, when all she wants to do is collapse, right there in the cell.

She _cannot_ let him see that, so she keeps standing.

"Is this always going to be our life?" she asks, pressing her hand against the glass, letting herself imagine she can feel his own. "Taking turns finding each other?"

He laughs, a broken shell of the laugh she knows is his, but still, he shakes his head. "We'll be together, I know it."

She envies his certainty.

As if he can tell that's exactly what she's thinking - and how well can he read her, even through an enchanted mirror - he continues. "Have faith."

And there's something to be said for his absolute belief in them, but he doesn't know Regina though, not like she does. And when the Evil Queen suddenly takes Charming's place in the mirror, she flinches, but she's not surprised.

Regina had lured her here for a reason.

And as her stepmother offers her meeting, all she can think, all she can hope, is that Charming isn't able to see this right now.

He'd never approve in a thousand years. He'd do everything in his power to stop her. She's familiar enough with the sound of him desperately screaming her name to be able to imagine it perfectly now, begging her not to go, calling her name at her back.

She wants to listen to him.

But if it means saving him, she's got to try, and just hope that maybe, one day, he'd be able to understand.

* * *

><p>The bastards are looking for a pay day.<p>

The bounty on her head gets larger by the day, satisfactory evidence of Regina's increasing panic, and they'd known that one of these days, they'd have to deal with that.

Today is that day.

Man are a greedy animal, and Regina offers much.

She just really, really wishes that the moment they'd known would come eventually, hadn't come on a day they'd decided to split up.

Yeah, okay, it had been dumb, so dumb, and reckless on both their parts, but at the time it had seemed like the best option. There was a storm coming, massive, you could almost smell it in the air, and their nearest hide-out was a day and a half's walk. And they'd had two villages left on this side of the mountain to visit, and they'd just...

They'd just been stupid and stubborn and hadn't wanted to move on leaving a village, leaving some of their people without speaking to them.

The only solace to be found is that it's only three of them. Three men, she can handle, three men she can take, if only she could get her arms free from the brute who's got a hold of them.

Three rather large men.

They know who she is, and they know the price on her head, and it's a price that appeals to them, if their satisfied war cries are any indication.

The sudden, fierce wave of loathing surprises her, but there's no denying it. How pathetic, she thinks, does one have to be to be willing to sacrifice the good of the kingdom, for the tiny, barely surviving village just beyond this ridge... all for a quick payout? How weak does one have to be, to value so few above so many?

She says nothing, but the intensity of her glare seems to excite the biggest of the men, the one she'd taken to be the ring-leader of the group.

He laughs, darkly. "You're a feisty little thing, aren't you, Snow White?"

She fights against the man holding her back, damn near snarling. She can't stand his tone, the way his gaze flits up and down her body. Hates even more, the fear she feels choking her.

The pressure he's got on her wrists hurts, and she knows it'll bruise. She knows she's in trouble.

But Gods help her, she's not backing down.

"Go to hell," she bites out.

The man's leering grin widens. "The Queen has waited for a long time to get her hands on you," he swarms, reaching out to touch her, "I think she can wait a little longer, while we all have some fun-"

He never manages to get so much as a finger on her. Never finishes the sentence. Will never say another word.

He's dead the moment the sword gets thrown through him.

She looks up, past the body collapsing in on itself, falling to the ground, to find herself looking straight at Charming, murder in his eyes.

It's only a second she takes to look at him, but it's all she needs.

The man holding her is still frozen still in shock, and again, that distraction is all she needs, as with all her strength, she kicks up, throwing her legs out behind her.

Even with a blind aim, she's always been rather deadly accurate, when she wants to be.

The man crumples to the ground, howling in pain, but that's not enough for her, as now loose, she spins around to face the man who would have happily held her down to be assaulted, so long as he got his turn.

"You enjoy assaulting women?" she bites out, kicking out again, smashing her foot against his face, enjoying the resulting sound of cracking bone. "Is it fun for you, to force them?"

"Your highness," he begs, garbled through blood.

"Oh it's your highness now that you've got no power?" she snarls.

"Please!" he begs.

Her vision had narrowed entirely on him in her rage, but for some reason, she finds herself suddenly able to see around them, her vision widening enough to see where they are. This mountain pass is treacherous, all jagged peaks and dark corners, shadows encroaching on what little sun shines in past the cliffs.

It's a miracle Charming found her, here. The light as fleeting as it is, it would have been near impossible to see. This pass would never be fully lit, regardless of the time of day, the rocky peaks stretching too high, too narrowly together for light to filter through.

Suspicion makes her stomach churn.

"What were you and your buddies doing here?" she asks in a whisper she knows to be far more threatening than her yells. "Setting a trap? Waiting for some poor girl to stumble into your midst, alone and outnumbered?"

The way he pales tells her all she needs to know.

"You've done this before," she blanches, white with horror. "And you would have succeeded, then, because no one was there to save the other girls."

From behind her, she can hear Charming in a fight with the third man, having wrenched his sword from the first's body. He's usually quiet as he fights, silent and stealthy, but today he punctuates his attacks with the sword with violent curses, language she's never heard Charming use, and she just knows.

He's not going to be satisfied with anything less than her attackers' deaths.

And she's not going to leave this filth to live to attack another day.

There's an odd symmetry to it, for at the exact moment she plunges the man's own knife into his body, she hears the fight behind her stop, and she knows Charming has won.

She spins around to face him, slowly, leaning back against one of the mountain walls for support. She can feel her weariness settling deep into her bones, the adrenaline finally draining out of her after a hideous, lengthy spike. For a long moment, neither of them speaks.

He finally takes a couple steps toward her, measured and careful, as if concerned she'd flinch away. As if concerned she'd be afraid of _him_.

The sob comes out strangled in her throat.

She can tell just by looking at him that it's taking everything in him not to close the gap still between them in a single step, to pull her close into him, tight in his grip, and never let her go again. She can tell he's holding himself back, because he doesn't want to scare her.

She wishes she could close that gap for him, throw herself into his arms, reassure him that she would never, _ever_ be afraid of him; but Gods, she just can't make herself move.

"Snow?" he finally asks, in the softest voice she's ever heard him use. "Are you... are you hurt?"

She shakes her head at him in the negative.

The next question comes out of him choked, as if he can barely bear to say it. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

She shakes her head again, far more vigorously this time.

"Can you talk to me?"

She swallows, tries to remember to breathe, to remember how to make words work. He needs to hear her, and she just needs him, needs to find the way to tell him that.

"Can you... can you just hold me, please?" she finally manages to whisper, and it's barely a second after that that he has his arms around her, and she feels safe again.

They're quiet together for a very long time, before Snow feels calm enough to speak without sobbing.

"They were _monsters_," she mutters disbelievingly, voice cracked and rough, as if she'd been screaming for a very long time - and maybe she had been, just without realizing it. "Even after everything I've been through, everything I've seen... I've never known evil like that before."

"You're safe," he murmurs into her hair. "I've got you. They didn't touch you."

"But I wasn't the first," she cries. "And there was no one here to save the other girls, and they weren't strong enough to fight back themselves."

His arms tighten around her even as he glares at the bodies, and from the darkness on his face alone, she knows that there is a part of him that's wishing the men would rise back up, just so he could have the pleasure of killing them all over again. It's a mark of his hatred that she can see it him, the desire for magic to make it possible.

The imp would be delighted, she knows, and knowing him as she does, she figures all it would take is the call of his name, and Rumplestilskin would appear out of thin air, eyes alight and interested with the idea of bringing out some further darkness in Charming through whatever means necessary.

He can't bring them back, she thinks with horror, but he'd have no issues parading nameless, faceless, _innocent_ people past Charming magically disguised with her attackers' faces, and with Charming in a blind rage he wouldn't be able to logic out the difference.

She has to get them both out of there before the imp just shows up for a little bit of fun.

"Can we go?" she asks, injecting a pathetic note into her voice that she otherwise never would have allowed. "I want out of here."

He nods slowly, finally looking away from the bodies to focus on her, and the next thing she knows, he's wrapped one arm around her legs, and has hoisted her up into his arms with the other.

"I think I could walk?" she tries, even as she wraps her arms around his neck in acceptance, a blatant contradiction to her words.

"Humour me," he murmurs. "I need this, I need you safe in my arms. I'm not going to be alright with you out of my embrace for a little while."

She actually manages to smile at him. "Okay," she whispers, and that's enough.

He manages to walk, carrying her all the while, for an impressive five hours, before he admits that he needs to stop and rest. They find a safe enough spot to make camp in for the night, and waste no time at all in curling up together.

Something in him finally relaxes, tension he'd held in his shoulders the whole time finally dissolving.

"Never again," he tells her, flat-out, tone booking no argument, just as she's drifting off to sleep.

"I know," she hums sleepily.

"We go everywhere together, or we don't go at all."

"I know."

"Alright. As long as you do."

She thinks she could sleep then, but her eyes fly open as one more question occurs to her. "How did you know to come?" she asks.

"It just never felt right," he sighs. "I tried to ignore it, tried to convince myself it was my imagination. It doesn't make sense after all. But I'm able to _feel_ it when something is wrong with you, as if you're a part of me, an extension of my own body. I was able to feel it when Regina made you eat that apple, and I was able to feel it today. And I just knew I had to get to you, no matter what."

"Thank you," she whispers. "Thank you for saving me. Again."

He presses his lips to the top of her head. "Always, my darling."

They sleep.

* * *

><p>They kept saving each other. Literally and metaphorically. Over and over and over again. Their time together had been so short, and the decades spent separated by magic and time so long, and still, she kept waiting to see him behind each tree they sped past, each corner they dodged. Every second, every heartbeat, she kept expecting to see Charming appear, sword in hand, murder in his eyes, prepared to kill the one who threatened his love.<p>

It wasn't possible.

It was up to her.

She needed to do it for him, because he needed her to, trusted her to. However deeply buried in David he was now, he needed her to save herself when he couldn't.

* * *

><p>She can't tell him.<p>

She has to tell him.

But she can't do it, cannot make the words come out. Words, what words, there's nothing good enough. She has to tell him, and yet there's no words to say it with.

His mother just died. She can't tell him now.

She can't keep this from him.

There's just no way to do _this_, she thinks, and it's agony, agony to know that this will break him, like it has broken her, but she can't show it, cannot, needs to be strong for him, strong while he tries to figure out a way to let his mother go.

There's nothing she can say to him, but for now, she can only be there.

"I'm so sorry," she tries as he lights the candle in memory of his mother. "She was all the family you had left," she says, then winces, because that's not the right thing to say, not at all, she knows what losing one's family does to someone.

They've both lost both parents, and they both never had siblings - James can certainly not be said to count - and for all their lives have been different, they're more similar than she can even begin to comprehend.

He shouldn't have to be reminded of how much he has lost already. But he doesn't seem to mind.

"No," he says, and he actually manages something of a smile. "I still have you." And he stands to walk over to her, and his love for her is all over his face, and she just doesn't understand how something could both hurt and heal her, so much of both, all at the same time.

He sighs, takes in a deep breath, mourning his mother, but unable to help but be filled with anything but hope for their future on this, the day they'd married for themselves and for his mother, quietly, in a beautiful clearing of the Enchanted Forest.

"I love you, Snow," he starts. He reaches for her. "And together, we can start a new family."

_Agony_. It'd be less painful to have her heart physically ripped from her body.

She groans, and it sounds like a wounded animal, weak and terrified, and she has to tell him, has to, has to, but he's reaching for his mother's charm and _oh Gods_.

"Here, this belonged to her. She would have wanted you to have it. She said it could... tell you what your child would be," and he's half laughing already, reaching for her hands, and no, no, no she'll have to tell him but she _cannot _let him see it, cannot let him see the cold finality of the unmoving charm above her.

"Please don't," she begs, pulling her hands away, and she knows he can hear something's wrong in her voice.

"It's just a superstition," he replies, still half smiling, but his eyes are worried.

"There's something I need to tell you," she rushes out, shaking her head.

"What is it?" he asks, and she hates herself, hates herself because this is going to hurt him so badly and he has no idea it's coming. "What's wrong?" He's still half-laughing, and she knows it's instinct for him, protecting himself when when he's scared, a way to keep feeling joy through dread.

She closes her eyes, chokes back a sob. She looks down, because she absolutely cannot look him in the eyes when she says it, and she just has to get it out there, quickly and...

The charm is moving over her hand.

Joy, pure, disbelieving joy overtakes her. "We're going to have a child."

Charming looks as though someone has hit him over the head with something. "What?"

"We're going to have a child!" she repeats, caught somewhere between laughter and tears.

Charming, her perfect love, still looks so absolutely bewildered, and it knocks her head over heels in love with him. "Is there something I need to know?" he asks, and there's laughter in his voice again, and she knows he's suddenly terrified but in the perfectly hopeful, happy kind of way of a man who desperately wants to be a father.

"I mean someday," she reassures him, beaming.

Now he's really laughing. "Well of course we are," he teases, as though there'd never been a doubt, and for him, there hadn't been. "What's it say it's gonna be? It's going to be a boy, right? I can never remember which direction means what."

She grabs his hand, meaning for him to stop looking at the charm before he can remember and figure out what the charm is telling them, see the baby girl that they are waiting for. "It's a surprise," she whispers.

He accepts that quickly enough, reaching out for her. "I'll send a signal for the army to regroup. We are going to take back the kingdom, Snow, and we are going to do it as a _family_."

She smiles at him, so in love with him, unable to speak with it, only able to nod, but that's enough for him, as he laughs, and yanks her into his arms the way he tends to do and she completely adores, pulling her to him for a kiss.

She knows she's going to have to tell him what happened someday. Soon. She refuses to have any secrets between them, especially now, officially husband and wife.

But for today, for right now, she is going to let them have their glorious precious moments of peace.

It's their wedding night, she thinks, and they are damn well going to let themselves have that.

* * *

><p>He's caught up in a rage, his fury causing everyone around them to recoil.<p>

She's skipped all the other steps and gone straight to acceptance. A broken, defeated acceptance, but acceptance all the same.

She rubs at her pregnancy-swollen belly as she slowly follows in the wake of Charming storming through the passage.

She doesn't know if the baby can feel her hand there or not, but the sudden force of the kick catches her by surprise. "Oof," she huffs out.

It was a tiny thing, barely more than a breath exhaled, but it's enough to have Charming freeze in place for just as long as it takes him to swing around and march backwards the twenty paces it takes to pull her into his reach, blue eyes studying her face, trying to read her.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

She pulls a half smile out from somewhere, though Gods only know where or how. "Baby's feisty tonight." They've gotten used to referring to the baby that way, the gender-neutral 'Baby' an affectionate means of referring to the daughter she had steadfastly refused to tell him they were expecting. She reaches for his hand, places it on her stomach where she knows Emma's foot last was. "Here, feel."

Maybe the baby knows her father's there, maybe she's feeling the effects of her mother's intensified emotions, or maybe she's just got a lot of energy to burn, but right on queue, Emma delivers three swift kicks in succession.

Something in his eyes softens, the way it always does when it comes to Baby.

"Wow," he murmurs. "Lots of energy tonight."

She smiles, genuinely this time, though through watery eyes. "Lots of energy always. Baby is healthy and safe in here."

He smiles back at that, before his face hardens, becomes fierce and determined. "The imp is wrong."

She closes her eyes at that. "You know he's not."

"He has to be. Doc's tests... Doc is positive that Baby is a boy, and Doc's always right and..."

"Doc's wrong this time."

Charming scoffs. "There's no way... the whole kingdom is positive it's a boy... Even Granny says you're carrying like it's a boy, and..."

"Your mother's charm says otherwise," she cuts him off.

He freezes.

"Baby is a girl, Charming." She blinks back tears, finds that smile from nowhere again. "_Emma_ is a girl."

Her husband looks lost, joy and wonder waring with pain and fear in his eyes. "She's a girl?" he whispers.

She nods, at a loss for words; unsure of what to say, and if she could speak without breaking down even if she had any words.

"She'll be _beautiful_," he whispers again.

She nods in tearful agreement. "A perfect mix of us both, I think."

The fierceness she had seen in his eyes just a few moments earlier comes back stronger this time, sharper somehow. "I'm going to protect you, Snow," he declares, and she could never doubt how much he means it. "We are going to figure something out. I will keep you both safe."

She doesn't tell him that she doubts that he can, because he needs this. Needs to have the belief that this is still something he can fix, because it's Charming, and he's the optimist.

And she's not, and he knows that, knows that she needs more than sheer faith to go on, needs something to believe in, needs actions more than words, and so the sob gets caught in her throat when he goes down on his knees and puts his cheek to her belly.

"Hey Baby," he murmurs. "You hear that, kiddo? I'm going to protect you and your Mama, no matter what I have to do. You believe that, right? You're pretty feisty in there, so I'm gonna guess that you do, I'm gonna guess that you're right there with me, so you and me, together, we're gonna make your Mama believe too. That we're all going to be okay, because Good always wins, and that's really important to remember. Good can't just lose."

There are tears streaming down her face, and Charming's too, but she reaches her hand around to grip the back of her husband's head, to stroke her fingers through his hair, and whatever he's doing, it's calming them all down, Baby included.

"Your Mama tells me your name is Emma," he continues, "and I think that's probably just perfect, but if you don't mind, little one, I think I'm going to keep calling you Baby for now. You'll be Emma once you've arrived, but while you're still safe and warm in Mama's stomach, you were always supposed to be Baby to me, and that's the way you're going to stay."

"I only just found out you are a girl. I've spent many months believing you would be a boy, but now I know the truth, and I know and feel so much joy from it that I wonder how I could have ever believed anything else. I love you already, baby girl. And I can't wait to meet you. Soon, Baby. But for right now, you just keep taking care of your Mama, and I'll keep taking care of both of you. I love you, Baby."

He chokes out the last few words before standing back up, pulling her into his arms, and she thinks that this is everything she could ever want or need, just Charming and the daughter that they'd made together.

Somehow, she thought, they had to find a way to fix this. She'd give everything else up, _everything_, if it meant she could just keep Charming and Emma.

* * *

><p>Her muscles are aching, her legs quickly - too quickly - starting to feel like dead weight, but still they keep running, for there is no other option.<p>

Her heart is pounding, her breath shallow in overworked lungs. Her eyes burn, vision blurred by tears that collect and stream, tears brought both of memory of the past and terror of the present.

She tries very hard not to think about the fact that she can now feel their body around them; feel her own presence within it; feel like the body belongs to her, rather than being an invader, a visitor to it.

This is the most human, the most herself she has felt in twenty-eight years, and the idea that it's coming just as the end does is unacceptable.

Mary is still in control, but Snow is right there with her, and when she feels Mary fade, she lets her energy flow into their limbs, and pushes them further.

They need this last spark of energy.

They can't keep going like this much longer.

* * *

><p>She'd never planned on love. Never planned on him. Never planned on the tiny human, currently trying rather hard to make her way out of her own body.<p>

Never planned on having not one, but two lives that meant so much more to her than her own.

Oh, she'd had her dreams as a small child, playing with her dolls, but those truly had been the childish musings of a sheltered princess. Life did not work the way she'd imagined when she was six, and indeed, forced into adulthood at age twelve, forced out of the only home she'd ever known to fight for her own survival through her mid-twenties...

It doesn't leave a lot of room for fantasy.

And then he'd come along, refusing to passively accept being robbed as any other prince would have, chasing her down on horse and tackling her and forcing her to smack his face with a rock as escape plan and self-preservation both (his face was disturbingly easy to stare at otherwise).

(His face became even more appealing with the addition of the scar she gave him. She still doesn't know how that works).

And she'd dangled from a net, and explained to him all the things about the childish, storybook musings of love that just didn't exist, and tried all the while to ignore her immediate attraction to him.

The ignoring didn't go well.

Trying on the ring had been foolish. The look in his eyes... she'd never known she could want like that, never realized it was possible to want that much, to be willing to give up everything else to just have that one person.

None of it was supposed to be real.

But she'd been looking at him, throwing out some quip about the ring not suiting her, and felt herself fall.

She'd never stopped falling, was the thing. It never failed to stun her, how much it had turned out she was capable of love, desperate, mad, passionate love.

Through saving each other - constantly, constantly saving each other - and the loss and regain of precious memories. Through the fight for two separate, powerful kingdoms, the one that was hers by birthright, and the one that had become his through deception that he couldn't let go of for love of his people. Through times spent hidden in caves surviving off the land, and times spent living in the highest luxury of castles. Through two weddings, through the loss of a beloved parent, through the terror of two tyrannical ones. Through everything they've been through together, all the intense, frightful times, and all the tiny moments of joy she had kept falling deeper for him.

And now, she lies back against him, screaming, as he holds her, as he murmurs to her, as he whispers reassurances, even as a battle for their future rages on the castle grounds around them.

And she loves him even more.

And she really, really needs him to know that.

"I love you," she gasps out through a contraction. "I love you so much."

"Don't say it like you're saying good-bye," he demands.

"I'm saying it," she pants, holding back a scream, "because I'm in labour with our daughter and I keep falling more in love with you, with everything you do. You wipe off the sweat on my face with that cloth, and I love you just that little bit more."

She has to cut herself off to let out a scream then, as a particularly painful contraction seizes her, and Charming clutches at her tighter, the frustration of not being able to do anything else for her written all over his face.

"There's no limit to how much I love you," she finally tells him. "I keep waiting for there to be. I keep waiting for the moment where, okay, that's it, there's no way I can possibly love you more than I already do. But it doesn't come. It'll never come. And right now, with our daughter on the way, I need for you to know that."

He kisses her forehead. "I know it. I know it, my darling. I love you, I love you, I love you. No limits. And I'm going to love Baby the same way."

She chokes out a laugh. "Almost time to call her Emma."

"Almost," he murmurs in agreement.

"Snow?" Doc says. "It's time to push."

* * *

><p>Emma is perfect. Absolutely, completely, perfect.<p>

And they got her away. She'll save them. She knows she will, their precious Baby. Rumplestilskin has never been wrong yet.

And so she believes that everything is going to be okay, even as she holds her husband dying in her arms as her stepmother sneers.

The imp had made one thing quite clear.

_True love carries, it crosses all_.

Regina may think she's won, but she is wrong.

The magic surrounds them, and she just clutches Charming tighter.

She will find him.

And they will love.

* * *

><p>She has a family. Against all odds, she ended up with a family, and she's so damn close to working her way back to them, to <em>finding<em> them, for it to end now, like this. Rage twists in her stomach, mixing with her doubt, terror and despair.

She cries.

But the tears are not just her own. Mary is crying too.

_Mare. _

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry we couldn't get you back to them. _

_It's not over yet, _she hisses. _Mare, Mare, it's not time to give up. _

_I can't keep going. I can't run anymore... _

_I know. But Mare... _

_He's going to catch us. It's over, Snow. _

_It's not. It's not, it's not. It's time to fight, Mare. _

_I can't... I don't know how... _

_I can. I do. _

Dead silence in her head for just a few seconds, but it's long enough to feel Mary's fear. _Snow? _

_I can do it. I can save us. I've fought before, many times, and I can feel our body around me right now as if it's my own. If you can get control over to me, I can _do_ this. _

Mary is crying hard now, but she is slowing down, and she has to make a decision, _now_, there's no time, and Mary knows it.

She feels it when Mary decides, the agonized acceptance in her head.

_I love you, _Mare says. _I love you, my sister. _

_Don't say it like you're saying goodbye, _she says sharply, repeating her husband's words of so long ago. _I promise you, I'm going to get you back to David. I'm going to get me back to Charming. I'm going to get us back to Emma and Henry. And we're all going to figure this out together, you, and me, and our families. _

_You've picked a heck of a time to find Charming's optimism, _Mary mutters as she slows to a near stop, in order to focus.

The stranger is only metres away, a look of bewilderment on his face, but he's headed straight for them.

_I'm going to keep us safe. We're going to be okay. _

_I know you are, _Mary murmurs, though it's faded, removed somehow. _I know you are. _

She doesn't have time to ask what that means, before she feels her body shudder, and she knows that control has been ceded to her.

She spins herself around just as the man reaches around to grab her, a strange scented cloth in his hand.

He recoils, staring at her eyes, stunned.

"Your highness?"

She delivers him a grin, fierce and deadly. "Delighted that my reputation precedes me."

And with that quip, needed for her own infuriated satisfaction, she kicks out, landing a furious kick directly to his stomach.

Not expecting it, not having prepared for it, the man doubles over.

Oh _Gods_ is this going to be fun.

* * *

><p>She doesn't kill him. It's a near thing. Tempting, so damn tempting. Not knowing what he'd meant for Mare - because he'd been completely caught off guard to end up face-to-face with Snow White instead, he couldn't have been aiming for herself - whether he'd meant to kidnap her, to kill her, or if he was a man like those she'd met on a mountainside peak all those years ago causes her a sickened rage.<p>

But no, she doesn't kill him. Not here, not in this land. Maybe back in her land - _probably_ back in her land - she would have, but things are different here.

So she satisfies herself with kicking his ass.

Oh, he puts up a fight, certainly. He's strong, but not skilled, and even weaponless, there's little he can do against someone with talent. She delivers a slash with her right hand to his left arm, hitting the exact right spot to a fragile bone, and he cries out, dropping whatever the heck it was he was holding, which pleases her, as she's sure he'd planned on using it against her. She kicks at the cloth as it lands on the ground, and it catches in the wind as she sends it airbourne again, floating away.

Good. Now that the unknown wildcard is no longer in play, they're down to hand-to-hand contact, and she likes her advantage there.

She kicks. She punches. She elbows (she's not above fighting dirty, not in this situation). Her attacker is a bloody, weakened mess, while she only has a few scratches (bastard had some nails to him).

Her body is fatigued though, even if she's not, and so she has had enough. She gets her center of gravity low, baits him towards her to try a tackle, and when he goes for it, spins out of the way, stands back up straight, grabs his head, and with every last shred of energy she has left, knocks him against the trunk of the nearest tree.

He collapses to the forest floor, unconscious.

And that is enough for her.

She wanders away from him, stunned, thinking she'd head back in the direction she'd thought she heard David calling for Mary from.

_I told you I'd get you back to him,_ she thinks. _Let's get back there now. You two have some things to work out. And I think he needs to see you right now. I'm concerned he might have heard you when you screamed, and that would have terrified him. _

Pure silence in response. Something in her stomach twists in sheer, immediate terror, though she chooses to ignore it, forces herself to ignore it.

_Also, I think I've earned some credit for that ass-kicking, _she teases, trying to draw her friend out into their usual banter.

Nothing.

_Mare? Come on, Mare. _

There is no response.

_It's time for you to take control back, Mare. _She thinks desperately, tries to ignore the fact that she can feel tears coming to her eyes. _Come on, come on, I've done my part, where are you? _

She has been through terrible things, she has known horrible pain, but in this moment, she doesn't know if she's ever known more agony than the realization that the only presence she can feel within her head is her own.

Mary is gone.

"MARE?!" she screams out into the woods.

The forest is silent.

It's the worst thing she's ever heard.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: DON'T KILL ME. ... Yet. You'll notice, there's a lovely little next chapter button there? <strong>_

_**Yes, this chapter got a little long, and it became necessary to split in into two. So go on then... keep reading! **_


	19. Beautiful Hell

_**Author's Note: If you are getting to this chapter by clicking the 'last chapter' button, DO NOT READ. **_

* * *

><p><em><strong>This is the second chapter of a two chapter arch, go back to read Chapter Seventeen, Back to Her first. Reading this chapter first will make it so that A: Nothing makes sense and B: You will spoil the last chapter for yourself, very, very badly. <strong>_

_**Read Chapter Seventeen first! I'm not joking! You guys are getting two chapters at once, because the chapter that was supposed to be one got too long. **_

_**This chapter goes out to my beautiful, amazing, wonderful, brilliant twitter followers. You know who you are, and I adore you. Thank you for making me smile every single day, and for making me want to write more, faster. Thank you for the prompts, thank you for the motivation, and more than anything else, thank you for loving this story. **_

* * *

><p><strong>(I'm not kidding, you really, really, really DON'T want to read this chapter before the one before it! <strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eighteen: Beautiful Hell <strong>

She tears through the woods, screaming for her sister, screaming for someone who's not there.

She doesn't know what she expects. If Mary is gone, really really gone, she's not going to just come wandering out from alongside the nearest tree, in an identical body to her own.

She's disappeared.

She refuses to think about how Mary had been just before she handed over control, weepy and resigned, as if she'd known what was about to happen, as if she'd known that she had to go.

She can't accept that. Cannot accept that her best friend, her sister, is really just gone. She can't be. It's not possible.

"Mary!" she cries out again. "Come on, come on!"

"Mary Margaret?" a wary voice asks from behind her.

She spins, then recoils.

On a list of people she would least like to see right now, the woman walking towards her now would be high up, behind only her stepmother and the imp.

Kathryn Nolan is staring at her, hands up, approaching the same cautious way most people would walk towards a dangerous animal.

Except...

"Mary Margaret, are you..." the blonde cuts herself off as she makes eye contact, eye contact that Snow had already been searching for, after some wayward, impossible thought working through her mind, a bewildering connection made.

She hadn't seen David's wife - or more accurately, Mary hadn't seen David's wife - since before she had gained full access to her senses back. The last interaction they'd had with Kathryn, she had been relying on Mary's second-hand, feedback looped, images of her. She'd been relying on what Mary could see, and Mary didn't know everything, not back then.

It occurs to her now - entirely herself, entirely in control of her own body, and with her entire memory in tact, both of a life spent in another world, and a life spent in Mary's body - that the curse had left traces, as all magic does.

Everyone who had been cursed had spent twenty-eight years living life in something of a fog, the magic blocking them from being able to see the truth.

And that showed in their eyes. A blurriness, a lack of focus, as if they were trying to see through water. She'd seen it, from the back of Mary's mind, every time Mary looked in a mirror. She'd seen it once she'd gained her senses back enough to be able to really see David.

The eyes of anyone under the absolute influence of the curse appeared cloudy.

And Kathryn Nolan's eyes are clear.

And from the dawning horror in them, she's thinking something pretty close to the same thing.

"_Abigail_?" she hisses.

"Oh Gods, oh Gods," the blonde princess says in reply. "Snow?"

* * *

><p>It's a strange thing, trying to reconcile the woman she'd thought of a sister-in-law in the past, with the bitch who had tormented her sister in the present.<p>

She can't do it.

"How is this _possible_?" she asks, and there's still an obvious hiss in it. Abigail will recognize her rage, she thinks, and finds she doesn't really care in the need for answers.

Abigail swallows, still all wide eyed in a horrified kind of disbelief that Snow very badly does not want to ponder the meaning of.

"Regina..." the blonde starts, but trails off, apparently unsure what to say, how to explain.

Snow feels her heart plummet.

"Please don't," she tries, and when it comes out as a whisper, like a child's terrified squeak, she clears her throat, tries again. Her voice is louder this time, but not by much. It's stronger though, latent rage on simmer, threatening to boil over. "Please tell me you have been under the curse's impact this entire time, that what you've been doing was all Kathryn, all the curse, and you've only just broken free in the last hour or so."

Abigail closes her eyes, turns away, only for a moment, but it's enough. Her actions have spoken loud and clear, and the damage is done.

Snow doesn't say anything, just makes a noise, half sigh, half groan, and the combination sounds broken and weak and so damn defeated she hates it.

Abigail is crying lightly, tears in her eyes but not really falling. "You have to understand, Snow, you must understand, everything I did, I did to keep you and James safe..."

Hearing her refer to Charming is the last straw for Snow's unsteady grip on her own emotions. Too much, this night has been too much, already, and to hear this...

"You sanctimonious _bitch_," Snow bites out.

Abigail trails off, wounded, but not nearly as hurt as Snow wants, not nearly as hurt as she deserves. After what David and Mare went through because of her, Snow wants her wrecked.

But she can't... not right now, not with Mare missing. She just can't do it right now.

"Snow..." Abigail tries again, but Snow cuts her off immediately.

"No. Don't even try. There's nothing you can say right now, nothing will make this better. You can tell yourself that everything you did was out of the goodness of your heart, but it's not going to work with me. Do you hear me, do you get that? I tried, I tried to be friends... I moved past how you manipulated Charming, I forgave it... I thought we were okay back in our land..."

"We were!"

"No," Snow shakes her head. "No, the Abigail I thought I knew back then would never have done something like this, never. You were manipulative, but you weren't cruel. And this... what you've done to David and Mary, it's unimaginable cruelty."

"David and Mary?" Abigail asks, looking bewildered, and more than a little bit frightened. "What are you talking about, Snow? Why are you talking about Mary Margaret as if..."

"I don't have time for this," Snow bites out. "I don't have time for you and your crap. I have to find my sister."

"You don't have a sister, Snow. Unless... do you mean Red?"

"I mean Mare!"

"You..." Abigail starts off as if she was going to ask a question, then cuts herself off with a noticeable swallow. "Snow you need to sit down, you've obviously been through a shock."

"The only shock I've been through is finding out that someone I considered a friend has willingly and knowingly been torturing my family."

"What _family_?" Abigail demands, and her frustration is obvious. "I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Mary is my family! And David is hers which makes him mine as well, and I need, I need to fix this for both of them..." she chokes off, talking to herself more than anything else, ignoring the fact that Abigail can still hear. "I can't tell him that I lost her. I can't do it. I'll just have to find her."

She spins as if to go taking off into the forest again, but Abigail seizes hold of her arm, and grips tight, preventing her from going anywhere.

She feels dangerous, an explosive ready to go off.

"Let go of me, Abigail. _Now_."

"No," Abigail snaps back. "Not with you like this. You could hurt yourself or somebody else."

"Well you'd know a lot about hurting people, now wouldn't you?" she seethes. "I'm not going to ask you again. Let go of me. I have to find Mare."

"Mary Margaret was a creation of the curse, Snow!" Abigail finally yells, having had enough. "She was your cursed self, she was magic, she was you all magicked and cursed into submission, whatever, I don't care, but she wasn't a separate person, she wasn't your sister, she wasn't _real_, Snow!"

"SHUT UP!" Snow screams, and it's hysterical even to her own ears.

Abigail, wide-eyed, looks horrified, and Snow wonders what she must be thinking, if she realizes that the agony in her voice is every bit what there'd be if she had lost anyone else she loved, Red, Ella, Granny, one of the dwarves. If anything, it's more painful, it's worse, because the realization there now that, for her, it's Charming and it's Emma, and it's the grandson she hasn't gotten the chance to know at all, not as herself, but who she adores desperately anyway. And then after that it's only Mare, Mare the sister she came to love against all odds, the person she should have resented for her control over the body she was trapped in.

She wonders if Abigail can hear all that in her voice, and fears she does, but presses on anyway. "You don't know anything, nothing about what Mare was - is. You don't. You don't know and you don't get, you don't get to even say her name."

"If you are going to keep us all from getting killed you need to get a hold of yourself right now and let this fantasy go!" Abigail demands furiously.

"It's not fantasy! I know who Mare is, and it's not some whacked up version of me! I don't know what the curse was like for you or anyone else, but Mare was the person, and I was in there with her like some kind of messed up parasite there to ruin her life, but she dealt, and we figured things out, and everything was okay, until tonight, when she disappeared, and I need, I need to find her."

Abigail has come over deathly pale. "There is no one to find, Snow. No one disappeared, what you think happened was just you coming out from under the curse."

"No, no, NO, you're not getting it, I talked to her, I talked to her everyday, how are you just going to explain that away?"

"I think... I think the curse as Regina cast it was mostly targeting you, and so you took the brunt of it. That's why you're so confused. And I think you're just... I think what you think you're experiencing right now, this sudden loss of another personality, I think you're just finally getting your grip on reality back."

"It's... Mare's not another personality! Don't you dare speak about her like she's nothing, like she's some weak psychosis. Leave the shrink work to Dr. Hopper!" Snow shrieks. "It's not helping me in the slightest. The only thing that's going to help me is figuring out what happened to my sister, and I'm going to do that with or without you!" She turns back to the thick trees of the forest, pulling herself away from Abigail with enough force that the blonde loses her grip.

"Mare!" she shouts out again, jogging through the tree line on weakened, shaky legs. "Come on, Mare, where did you go?"

She collapses in a heap, still nothing in her legs left to give after the attempted escape and fight with the crazy eyed stranger. "Come on Mare," she cries. "Where are you? I need you here. I need you," she sobs. "I cannot do any of this without you. I need my sister."

The sudden pressure of a hand on her shoulder causes her to startle and nearly look up in hope, before she catches herself. Mary would be gentler than that, more careful than that, and indeed, it's only Abigail again, having run after her.

"We need to get you home," Abigail murmurs in a shaky voice. "You're not well right now, but you just need some rest, then everything will be okay. Everyone will be glad to see you, Emma and David were terrified when we heard you scream."

Snow flies to her feet, furious. "What did you just say to me?"

Abigail freezes, wary. "I don't know... what's wrong, what did I say?"

"Why were you with them? Why were you with _my_ family?"

Abigail pales further still. "You need to understand," she says. "You need to listen this time. Regina will do anything to prevent your happiness, anything, and if she thought you were coming out from the curse's effects, if she thought you and James were going to get your happy ending after all, she'd destroy you. I _couldn't _let that happen, Snow, I had to stop it, and I knew even cursed without his memories James would do anything to protect you, so I made him feel as though he had no choice but to leave. But as much as he'd do anything for you, he's weak for you too, so when he went to meet you, I followed after him to make sure... to make sure he went through with it."

Snow wonders, vaguely, if it's actually possible to boil alive out of rage.

"You were there? You were _watching_ what he did to Mare?"

"Stop saying to Mare, it was you Snow, it was always you even if..."

She gets cut off when Snow hauls back and slaps her clear across the face.

"Satisfied?" Abigail bites out once she gets over her shock. "Because I'll let you get away with that one, but there won't be another. I damn well don't deserve it."

Snow pulls back to hit her again.

"Dear me," a calm, measured voice cuts in. "Am I interrupting something?"

Snow closes her eyes, trying to keep control of the dread she fears is obvious in them.

What was that about the list of people she least wanted to see?

The imp always did have a talent for showing up right when she was preparing to throttle Abigail.

* * *

><p>"If it's a cat fight I'm interrupting," Gold starts, cheerfulness and no small amount of amusement twisting silkily in his voice, "please do continue. I daresay you two do have your reasons for it, don't stop on my account."<p>

Snow swallows, works to bury her fury, or at least the outward evidence of it. The last thing she needs is for Gold to see a feisty, fighting side of her that would be most out of character for Mary. She pulls back, away from Abigail, ignores the hurt in the blonde's eyes and the memory of an eerily similar situation in which she had stepped towards the other princess protectively.

Forget it. It's not happening this time. She's done with always saving Abigail's ass.

"We are fine, Mr Gold," she demurs once she's sure her voice is even. "Ms Nolan and I just had some things we needed to work out between the two of us."

"Oh, indeed I imagine you did," he agrees, smile twisting and stretching familiarly. "Though I do hope we can keep things civil? No sense complicating matters."

Snow takes a deep breath, tries to remember Mary, remember that Mare would never stab the imp through with a tree branch.

"You'll understand if things are not quite as simple as you're suggesting," she says, impressively calm.

"But of course," Gold comments blandly, yet still somehow injecting an almost sing-songy note to his voice. "Divorce is always hard. But I have hope that we can all be _dear friends_ again once more."

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Abigail pale, and knows that she's not the only one to recognize the phrase.

It's a coincidence, she thinks desperately, even as her stomach twists, even as she notes how carefully Gold is avoiding eye contact, cheerfully glancing about the woods.

Not noticing, or blatantly ignoring the uncomfortable silence, Gold continues. "At any rate, we all have our bad days, I can understand that. I had a rough weekend myself, as I'm sure you're aware, Ms Blanchard. Though your dear roommate was kind enough to finally release me this morning."

Something in her hardens at the reference to Emma.

"You'll understand, she didn't want to risk going out in the storm yesterday," she states flatly, tone booking no room for argument.

Gold grins. "Don't misunderstand me, Ms Blanchard. I agree completely. We need our Sheriff to be responsible, now don't we? Setting the tone for town safety, being a good example - it's a excellent thing. It is so wonderful to see her setting roots here, with you Ms Blanchard, and her son, of course. She truly is so important to us all."

She could probably get away with killing him if she did away with Abigail too, she thinks caustically.

It's the imp. She knows it's the imp, knows him well enough to know that this situation is far more dangerous than she'd really planned on.

Still, it's a shock when he grins craftily once more, then silkily continues, "Well ladies, I'm afraid you shall have to excuse me. I was just enjoying a lovely stroll, appreciating the fresh air, though I fear it gets late. I'd ask that you dears do not dawdle in getting home either, I'd hate to think of you in danger in the woods."

He finally looks up then, straight into Snow's own eyes, and she just barely avoids sucking in a breath at the clarity, the focus in them. His own grin widens, and she wonders what he sees in her.

"You would do best to let Mr. Nolan go, I think," he proclaims to Abigail, though hardly sparing her a glance as he says it. "I've spoken to him myself, as you both well know. He seems to be dead set on this divorce. And there is very little anyone else can do in the face of the kind of love Mr Nolan and Ms Blanchard share."

He turns and walks away, makes it to the very edge of the tree line, almost out of earshot, before he turns around and looks back at them.

Even from this distance, Snow's breath catches at how much of Rumplestilskin she can see in Gold's smile now.

"It's almost enough to make one believe in fairy tales," he grins, before he spins and walks away, his point clearly made.

* * *

><p>As always, a confrontation with the imp takes everything right out of her, the fight included. Sighing, Snow leans back against the trunk of a tree, sliding down it until she is sitting on the forest floor.<p>

Abigail still stands, and the sight of her looming over her is enough to get her back right up.

"If you're going to hover, at least sit down," Snow snaps.

Abigail twitches, as if she's not sure what to do, hope and guardedness battling in her eyes. "Do you want me to?"

"What I want is for you to go away, leave me alone, but I somehow suspect you're not going to do that?"

The blonde heaves a put-out sigh as she sits. She always was spoiled, Snow thinks bitterly.

"You can't be left alone right now," Abigail chastises. "So I'm staying with you until you've got someone else."

"I don't need a babysitter," Snow snaps.

"You need help."

"No. I. Don't. Need. Anything," she shrieks, then catches herself. "No, wait, that's not right, is it? I need my husband. I need my sister. But you can't provide me with any of those things, can you? So I guess what I really don't need, is anything from _you_."

Abigail pinches the bridge of her nose, breathes in. "I know this is an adjustment for you," she mutters. "I realize that you must have just come out from the curse's effects, and so everything is very confusing and you don't understand what is going on, I get that. But you have to _stop_ referring to your cursed persona as your sister, or this bad situation is going to get a hell of a lot worse!"

Snow is pretty sure she is to be commended by a special legion of honour for the control she keeps on her rage this time. It simmers, but doesn't boil over, before she's got control over herself once more.

"I don't know what the curse was like for you," she says, her voice just the slightest bit too uneven to be called calm. "I don't know it. And because of that, you can't know what it was like for me. You can't. But you said yourself, Regina cast it for vengeance on me. It was targeting me, aimed at me, and that made it different for me. What is wrong with you that you can't accept the possibility that Mare was that difference?! She is real, she is someone separate from me. I knew who I was the entire time, Abigail, and I knew who she was too. We weren't the same. We were in it together, in here together, but now she's gone, and I'm alone, and that's the emptiest feeling I've ever felt, and I need to deal with that without a traitor telling me I've gone insane!"

"I'm not a traitor, Snow," Abigail mutters, seeming ready to move past the question of who or what Mare is, at least for the moment. "I know it must feel that way for you now, but I swear to you, everything I did was for your own good."

"You keep saying that, and yet not a damn thing you did was good. What was the point of it all, Abigail? What exactly were you trying to accomplish?"

"I told you. If Regina had any idea that you and James were going to be happy, if she thought you were getting back to yourselves, if she thought you were fighting your way out from the curse, you would have been in grave danger. I needed to maintain the status quo, it was what Regina wanted, and so it would be the only way to keep you safe."

Snow shakes her head. "I'm never going to understand this obsession with safety. What is the point of being safe, if you're going to be miserable? What you did was cruel. You can sit there, all sanctimonious all you want, at the end of the day, you didn't do what was best for anyone. You just tortured us all. And for what? So we're safe? If you knew me at all, really knew me, you'd know I would rather take the risk. I'd rather take the chance for happiness. I would rather be with Charming."

Abigail stares at her evenly. "But would James?"

She feels the fury boil again. "Excuse me?"

"If James were here, if he were conscious, would _he_ want to take the risk? Would he be willing to risk you, in order to be with you? I think not. I think he would agree with me, with what I did. And that's enough for me."

The cool edge of pure hatred skims down her backbone like the blade of a knife, settling in her stomach. It's foreign, and unforeseen, and it frightens her how sharp it is, how deeply it cuts, how much it hurts.

She knows hatred. She's felt it in her past, in another life. She's felt it for would-be rapists, for men who would kill their son's brother. She's felt it for an Evil Queen, complicated by her memories of Regina, of a woman she would have happily called mother, had that woman not disappeared completely soon after the death of her love.

But this, this is new. This is a woman who hasn't changed, who hasn't become someone new and unfamiliar, who hasn't had her heart blacken to unrecognizability. This is Abigail as she has always been, a woman who she had initially disliked on instinct and buried jealousy, but who she had eventually become fond of.

This is a woman who Charming trusted, and so she had forgiven for him.

But now, now she realizes that she'd never really known her at all.

And what's more, she hadn't known anything about them.

"You know nothing about my husband," she hisses. "Don't you speak his name, don't you dare tell _me_ how he would feel. I meant what I said back in that classroom, Abigail. He is _mine_. And you don't get to say a damn thing about him."

Abigail freezes. "You remember that? That was really you?"

Snow scoffs. "Of course I do. How many times do I have to tell you, I was there the whole time, conscious of what Mary experienced. That was just the first time I seized control, because Mare retreated inwards when my emotions heightened and - wait. _You _remember that? You were... you were Abigail even then?"

Something in Abigail's eyes tightens, but her lack of denial is all she needs to hear.

"You _bitch_," Snow seethes. "You... _you_ told me he was your husband. _You_ said that to _me_?"

"You'll recall I thought you were Mary Margaret at the time."

"You didn't have the right to say that to me either way! You knew what the truth was! You knew how deep it would cut, how much it would hurt, and you said it anyway! How cruel do you have to be?"

Abigail's voice takes on a stubborn edge. "I didn't know it was you. As far as I knew, you were Mary Margaret Blanchard, believing me to be Kathryn Nolan, David's poor wife-"

"Stop _saying_ that!"

"And I make no apologies for it," she finishes.

Snow shakes her head. "Of course not. What have you ever apologized for in your life? You're a spoiled brat who does as she pleases, regardless of who it may hurt."

Abigail's lower lip trembles, but she does not look away. "Think what you want. You always have."

Snow laughs, but it is bitterly sardonic. "Wow. Shifting blame, another typical. You're well experienced at being Abigail, aren't you? Guess you've been out from the curse's effects for awhile, no confusion for you. How long has it been, anyway?"

Abigail swallows. "I've been awake since David woke up from the coma."

Her stomach sinks like a stone at the sheer shock of it. "How is that even _possible_?" Snow asks with a hiss, shaking.

"Regina... I don't think she knows much about the curse. Doesn't know its intricacies, anyway, doesn't know how carefully it must be manipulated. She hadn't planned on you-"

"Mary!"

"Whatever, whomever waking David up. When he regained consciousness, she found out right away, Dr Whale phoned her as John Doe's 'emergency contact', and she put her contingency plan into action. I'm sure she thought it was quite clever, an additional little way of torturing you, pulling James' former fiancee out of thin air to play his wife in this world. I was a nobody in Storybrooke until then, just a bit player that Regina didn't concern herself with. But with David awake and needing a story that kept him away from you, she found me, brought me into it. Used some last bit of magic to manipulate my story to include an estranged, believed lost forever husband. But she didn't... Regina didn't foresee the costs of the action, of what she'd need to do. She brought me into the curse without knowing it, and instead of reinforcing her status quo, she woke someone up, completely unplanned. I realized... fairly quickly what was going on, and decided that my only option, for all of our sakes, was to play the part she gave me."

Snow shakes her head, amazed at the presumption. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"And say what?" Abigail scoffed. "Hi, Mary, so sorry to interrupt your life, but everything you know is a lie, you're actually a fairy tale character cursed into the life you think you're living, and by the way, my husband is actually yours, so congrats on that?"

Snow throws her arms up in the air, rolling her eyes. "Sure! Why not! Mary would have listened, Mary would have given anything for an explanation for why she felt so strongly towards David so quickly, and for no apparent reason. She had already heard it from Henry anyway..."

"A child! You would have had me show up at your apartment ranting about a child's fairy tale fantasies?"

"It would have brought me out sooner," Snow replies quietly. "And Mary accepted things once I was there to explain, to help. She would have understood, eventually. We could have saved all of this."

"You are being absurd," Abigail challenges. "And you know it. You always were impossible to deal with, but I really don't know when you got this naive."

Snow stands up, furious. "I'm not going to listen to this anymore. I have things I need to do."

"Like what?" Abigail scoffs, seizing her arm. "Chasing more non existent ghosts?"

"What would you know about it," she mutters. "We're freaking fairy tale characters freed from powerful magic, and you still can't open your mind. Yes, Abigail. I am going to go find my sister."

"Not yet, you aren't," Abigail snaps. "You can chase your foolishness around all you like soon enough, see if I care anymore, but there are still matters we need to discuss."

"Like what?" Snow snaps back. "I have nothing left to say to you."

"Well, unfortunately for you, as the only two who are awake, we need to work together, we need to be on the same page..."

"You keep going around being your 'woe is me' self, and I work on freeing everyone else. Done," she proclaims, pulling away.

"Not _done_, you can't just act without thinking, you could get us all killed, this is exactly why I didn't want you to wake up."

"Because you were doing such a great job of being our fearless fairy tale leader," Snow rages. "You were playing God with people's lives, for no reason other than the fact that you could. That's not going to keep going on. I'm here now. It's not happening anymore."

"If you do not go home, and play Mary Margaret as Regina believes her to be, she will figure it out. And she will do whatever she can to destroy you, destroy us all. You must be smart about this, Snow. You have to be, if not for yourself, then to protect everyone you love and care about."

She blinks stoically. "Lecture over now? Brilliant. Let me go now."

"We are not done, we need to talk about Gold, and how much we think he might know..."

"He's the imp, he knows everything, conversation over."

Abigail recoils. "_What_?" she breathes. "How can you know that..."

"Same as you knew it was me when you saw me. When he made eye contact with me, his eyes were clear, his focus sharp. It was Rumplestilskin, Abigail. Every bit as clever, every bit as crafty, and every bit as dangerous as he was back in our land."

The blonde's breathing is staggered as she holds her undoubtably pounding heart. "Maybe he doesn't... maybe he didn't know it was us."

"He knew," Snow mutters stoically. "Based just on what he said, he knew. He was trying to get a reaction out of us the entire time. The imp is still, even now, even in this world, he's still playing games."

Abigail looks near tears. "Maybe he-"

"He _knows_, Abigail," she cuts her protests off sharply. "He was cursed too, in the beginning. Somehow he worked his way out from under it, and it means that he can see. He can see the difference between who is under the curse and who is not, every bit as easily as you and I can. Everyone who is under the curse can't see what's right in front of them, all the details the curse hides away, and that lack of focus shows in their eyes. Once you come out from that cloudiness, blurriness, whatever, their eyes sharpen. It's obvious. Rumplestilskin never misses the tiny, subtle details, do you really think he's going to miss something that blatant? My Gods, Abigail, you know the imp is not stupid and he had foresight and knowledge of the curse before it was cast, he probably understood everything as soon as he came out-"

She cuts herself off suddenly, stunned with realization, and the beginnings of something that feels shockingly like hope.

"What?"

"We can see the difference because we _were_ cursed. We were in that cloud, and now that we've come out from under it, we can recognize what it looked like. But if someone had never been cursed... they wouldn't be able to see the difference, because they don't know there is one."

Abigail gapes. "Who are you talking about... you think someone escaped the curse?"

"No," Snow shakes her head, smile spreading, finally genuinely. "I think that the one who cast it would not have cursed herself. Would not have denied herself the pleasure of seeing what the magic did to the rest of us."

"Oh my Gods," Abigail murmurs as realization dawns. "Regina has never realized that I am who I am, even after all the time I've spent in her company..."

"Regina was never under the effects of the curse," Snow says, grinning broadly now. "Which means that she cannot see what it does. The difference in people's eyes, she won't be able to see it, because she doesn't know that it's there, doesn't know to look for it. She doesn't know. She won't be able to tell as people wake up, as long as everyone plays their part well as they do. We finally, finally have an advantage over her."

It's going to be okay, she thinks, giddily. All she needs is to find Mary, to reach Charming, to get through to Emma, and everything is going to be just fine...

"You realize that this means you need to stay away from David," Abigail says flatly.

_Bitch_.

* * *

><p>It's like being dumped over with a bucket of cold water.<p>

The other princess always was good at raining on her parade.

"I realize nothing of the sort," she says coldly. "Mare is in love with David. Her suddenly staying away from him would be an absolutely nonsensical turn of character. It would catch attention. My only option is to spend more time with David."

"Regina knows we'd delivered David with an ultimatum, Snow!" Abigail shrieks, desperately. "She knows David will be turning away from you, to protect you."

"I'll have to talk to him," she says to herself. "Try to explain, try to make him understand. He'll know as soon as he sees me that I'm not Mare... but he'll be quick to convince that we need to figure out what happened to her, he loves her so much. And..." Hope, glorious hope seizes her in the chest, makes her heart pound. "Once we know what happens to her, once we find her... we can get David out too." She trembles with the realization, with the need for it. "_Charming_," she whispers. "I'm coming, Charming. I'm going to find you again."

"Snow?" Abigail asks, stunned, all the anger drained out of her voice. "What are you talking about? You know... surely you must know... Sweetie, James is gone."

* * *

><p>Her vision has narrowed, gone red around the edges, a fury she only recognizes from times in her past life that she was prepared to kill.<p>

"What the hell did you just say to me?" she asks, her whisper far more dangerous, more deadly, than any scream.

"I said James is gone. He's not in there. David Nolan is just David Nolan. There's no one else."

"And what," she asks, clutching at a low hanging tree branch to prevent herself from clawing the other princess's hateful eyes out. "What in the name of all of our Gods, gives you that disgusting idea?"

"James was basically dead when the curse hit," Abigail says evenly. "He was gone. His body was brought over, but he spent twenty-eight years in a coma, Snow. I know it's hard, I know it's impossible to accept, to deal with, but you cannot possibly think that he is still in there."

"He woke up," Snow hisses, horror-struck, stunned again that Abigail was capable of such cruelty. "He woke up from that coma. I - Mare - woke him up. He is awake."

"_David_ is awake."

"David would not exist without Charming!" Snow yells. "This is absurd, I cannot, I cannot believe you would stoop to this kind of low, this pathetic, cruel, hateful attack. He's in there. My husband is in there, I've seen proof of it, David has gained access to some of his memories in flashes. If Charming were really gone, there'd be nothing left of his soul in his body, no memories at all. He's in there. And I'm going to bring him back to me."

Abigail is unmoved. "If he's there, it's a shadow of himself. He's not going to come back."

"I did! I came back! I was every bit the shadow he must be now, barely alive, barely there, and yet look at me standing in front of you now! He can make his way back, just as I did!"

"And again, you were not near death when you were cursed! He was! There's little of him left, he can't fight his way out like you did, he's not strong enough."

"He's not weak!" Snow screams.

"Of course not. _James_ is one of the strongest, most honourable people I have ever known, but he is not the one who is here now. David is here now, and he is trapped in a curse that takes a person's best qualities, and turns them to the opposite! Where James is a strong, good, honourable man, David cannot find those qualities in himself, much as he wants to. He is a weak man, he knows this of himself. And he cannot fight off the curse."

Snow stares, feels her hands shaking at her side. She wonders what she looks like, feeling caught between white-faced horror and flushed with rage. "You do not know David, at all. You know the person Regina tried to magic him into. But she failed, because she does not truly understand magic, least of all true love. You don't know who he became with Mare. How good, how noble, how strong and honourable he truly is."

"You're projecting, Snow. You're seeing James where David stands. I understand that, I do, but it's not helping anything. David does not have true love, you and James did, and James is not the one who is here."

Snow swallows. "You don't know anything. You can't understand it even if you could see it. Only those who have experienced true love can. And as one half of the only whole known in all the realms who had it, I'm the only one who can speak of it. Charming is here, he's in there, and David becomes more like him everyday."

Eyes darkened at the reminder of the power of true love, at her own lack of it, Abigail bristles in anger. "David is nothing like James. He has no strength, no honour."

"He stayed with you!" Snow shrieks. "Even though he's in love with Mare, passionately in love with Mare, has been from the beginning, he stayed with you, because he thought you were his wife, because he thought you were in danger of harming yourself. And when you backed him into a corner, forced him to choose between his own happiness and Mary's life as she knows it, he picked Mary over himself! You tell me, where in the hell is there dishonour in all of that?"

Abigail has frozen at the sight and sound of Snow's tearful fury.

"David is a good man. And Charming is in there. And I will find a way. I will bring Charming all the way back. I will find him. And I will get David back to Mary."

"Listen to yourself," Abigail cries. "You are talking about yourself and Mary Margaret, about James and David, as if you're all four different people! Where are you planning on finding two extra bodies, Snow?!"

It's as if finally hearing the question out loud gives her the answer, and she can't believe she didn't think of it before.

She knows her whole face must be shining with the triumph she feels. "Magic can do anything."

"You know damn well magic cannot do this..." Abigail starts before cutting herself off, realization dawning at hearing something familiar in her own words.

"True love can," Snow declares, and she is glorious in her joy. "_My_ magic can."

* * *

><p>"Don't be absurd," Abigail splutters, trailing desperately in Snow's wake as the younger woman marches determined through the woods. "You know all magic has its price, do you even want to imagine the cost of this kind of magic?"<p>

"I'm willing to pay it," Snow says, voice calm when just moments ago she would have snapped, now soothed by her own idea. _All she needs is to find Mary. _

"This is dark stuff you are messing with, Snow!"

"There's nothing dark about true love," Snow murmurs back. "It's the purest, rarest, most _good _form of magic. I wouldn't be using it for evil. I would be using it to let three other people get their own lives and loves back. There is no purer motivation! I'd be doing it for my husband, my sister, and my sister's love..."

"And for you!"

Snow nods, accepting this. "There's selfishness innate in all use of magic. No one uses it without looking for some kind of benefit. I'd be using it for something better, something grander. The Gods will accept that."

"You accused me of playing God! What do you think you're planning on doing here?"

"I know Mary. I know David. And I know my husband. We all would want this. All of us. There's no playing God, when the only lives impacted would all choose this."

"It wouldn't just be you! Think of Emma!"

Snow spins on her, furious. "Don't you speak of my daughter to me!"

Abigail recoils, flummoxed. "Your... What?"

The anger goes straight out of Snow's voice as quickly as it came at the realization. "You don't know..."

She wouldn't have thought Abigail had any colour left to lose, but she somehow has managed to come over paler still. "Emma Swan..." she stumbles, "She's just your roommate, she has to be..."

"She's Mare's roommate," Snow corrects. "And her best friend. But Emma," she chokes, "is my baby girl, with the name I gave her."

"How is that possible?"

"I went into labour the day the curse hit, over twenty-eight year ago. As Regina's forces battled my own, I gave birth to her. Rumplestilskin had warned us the curse was coming, and he told us that my baby was the key to saving us all. He told us to get her to safety... so we did."

"Oh my Gods," Abigail cries. "Oh my Gods."

"It was agony," Snow whispers, tearing up to think about it. "But we had to keep her safe. We sent her through a portal to this world, when she was barely an hour old. The curse hit soon after, and blasted us all to Storybrooke. Where we all lived twenty-eight years as our cursed selves, not aging a day, until my daughter came to town, as was prophesied, and things started changing. _I _started being able to communicate with Mare, once my daughter came back to me."

"And you knew all of this was going to happen in advance?"

"I had to. I wasn't going to bring my daughter into a world where I didn't know what Regina's threats meant. We made a deal with Rumplestilskin... the truth, in exchange for my daughter's name." Something occurs to her at that, and she feels her stomach twist in disgust. "He knew Emma was the key. That's why he wanted her name. She was a failsafe for him. He must have woken up from the curse as soon as she first introduced herself to him." She shakes her head. "I ought to kick his ass for using my daughter like that."

"So now what?" Abigail asks, sniffling. "You're just going to stroll into town, make sure everything works out just splendidly for you, and leave the rest of us to suffer?"

"No, Abigail," she says coldly. "I've never been that selfish. I'm going to get my family back, yes. And then I'm going to find a way to help everyone else. It's time Regina finally loses this battle."

"At what cost?"

"We're going to find out, aren't we?" Snow asks. "Unlike you, I have happy endings ranked rather highly on my priorities."

Abigail shakes her head. "You're as selfish as I am, Snow White. At least I can see it." She turns to walk away, finally, before freezing in place, staring off to the side at the person who has emerged from the tree line into the clearing they currently stand in.

"Mare?" David Nolan asks as he runs up, either ignoring the blonde completely or not seeing her at all, such is his focus on the woman he loves. "Thank God, Mare!"

* * *

><p>At the sound of her husband's voice, but the knowledge that it was not really him, Snow had stiffened completely. She wasn't ready for David, not now, not yet, not when she didn't know what had happened to Mary.<p>

But she cannot delay this confrontation, and she spins to face her sister's love.

It's as painful as she would have imagined, to see Charming's face with her own eyes fully under her control, and yet to know the eyes in his, the soul behind them are David's. She sees his face fall too, just as she imagines hers does, as David gets a good look at her.

He knows damn well she's not Mare, and he recoils just as he was reaching to grab her hands.

"Mika?" he gapes, then pales further still, panic widening his eyes. "Mika, what the hell is going on, what happened, where is Mare, is she alright? Did you two switch, do you have control now?"

"Mika?" Abigail asks from off to the side. "Who the hell..."

David and Snow pay the blonde no mind at all, for Snow is entirely focused on David as he is on her, and she has no idea what to say to him, no idea how to start, but something...

Something is happening in David's eyes.

A fluttering, reminding her oddly of window coverings being thrown open to allow the sun to pass through the window, until his eyes are rolling back, unfocused and frightening.

"David!" Snow shrieks, reaching for him, terrified, so damn terrified, and she reaches for him, grabbing him by the shoulders, shaking him lightly, screaming his name over and over again, "David, David, David!"

His hands have flown up to hold his head, as if he's in agonizing pain, and he looks up at her, only slightly more focused, but this time, there's a spark of recognition in his eyes even through all the confusion. "Snow?" he asks, as if looking for confirmation, and she feels her hands shake even as Abigail gasps from somewhere behind her.

He's still David, but it cannot be a coincidence that he's pulling her name out of nowhere.

She nods, unable to speak, unsure of what's going on, unsure of what she wants, afraid to hope, afraid to believe.

"Jesus Christ, Snow," he finally says. "Did you cause this much trouble for Mare? This guy is kind of a pain in the ass when it comes to you."

And with that quip, so very David-like, but so much of Charming too it stuns her, the body that houses them both collapses to the ground.

Snow screams in agony, falls to the ground next to him, and vaguely in the back of her mind, through all the fear, all the terror, she can hear Abigail making noise about calling 9-1-1, and that's not right, that's not going to help, that's only going to be directed to Emma, and she doesn't want Emma anywhere near this torture but she cannot find the words to say that, all she can do is scream, tears blinding her, calling for David and Charming both, unsure of who it is that she wants to answer.

And then, to her disbelief, the body crumpled to the ground before her finally moves, arm reaching for his side as if...

As if he expects to find himself bleeding from a would-be fatal wound.

She sucks in a breath, terrified to hope, reaching for the hand that's searching for blood that is not there, for a wound that long ago scarred over, and links her fingers with his, and that, that's enough for his eyes to fly open to meet hers.

She stares at him, disbelievingly.

Those piercing blue eyes that destroyed her and healed her both every day of their lives meet her own.

And they are clear, sharp, and focused on only her.

She can't say it.

He does.

"Snow," he whispers, awestruck, pulling himself up to sit, to reach for her. "Snow, you found me."

"Oh Gods," she sobs, even as he pulls her into his arms, even as he's quickly got her wrapped in a passionate embrace.

It is against his lips that she finally says it.

"_Charming_."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: <strong>_

_***Grins* **_

_**Okay, now you can kill me. **_

_**That is all. **_

_**(Follow me at icingsfanfic on twitter. I post all my little secrets there). **_

_**Not going to do a Q&A this chapter. Because I feel like this chapter needs to stand by itself. Just because. **_

_**Thanks for being patient during another long wait. **_

_**Thanks, as always, for reading. **_


	20. Know You're Alive

**Chapter Nineteen: Know You're Alive**

In his arms, it was always easy to forget.

It always had been, back in another lifetime. The curse, the threats from evil non-parents, the imp's manipulations and machinations, even the everyday pressures of trying to run two kingdoms (which had come hard-won after the everyday pressures of trying to _seize back_ two kingdoms). None of it mattered, none of it hurt, none of it even felt that difficult, when she was in his arms. Nothing could touch her there. She was safe, she was loved, and they were together, which was all that mattered.

It was always easy to forget.

The darkest of curses and twenty-eight years spent apart were never going to change that.

She aches with the need for Mare, a physical pain every bit as acute as the loss of a limb, yet somehow _more_, as if she'd lost a piece of her own soul; but the pain feels phantom to her here, in Charming's arms. Not gone - never gone - but removed from her, there to be felt but insignificant in the face of the joy of having Charming hold her; in the reassurance his presence alone brought her.

_Of course_ everything would be alright. He alone could fix it. Her step-mother's continued cruelty, the curse's continuing effects, the fact that the woman she had once considered a sister-in-law had proven to be a manipulative bitch, what did it matter? The loss of a lifetime with her daughter - that haunted her so much more now that her body was her own to feel it in - it could be handled, for they could be a family now.

And Mary, they would find her. And they would make it work. Together, they would find a way. The edges and fragments of a plan, floating through the back of her mind, with Charming's help and ideas they would come together to form a workable whole.

In Charming's arms, nothing seemed impossible. Nothing seemed scary. Terror and weakness, easily forgotten.

_Everything_ was easily forgotten, for he was there, he was holding her, and she was even reasonably convinced he was actually real.

He was kissing her, and that sure felt real.

"Emma?" he asks, pulling back to demand, and that makes sense, that's something Charming would do if he were real, he would ask of his daughter, who he had fought so hard to save. He would want to know right away.

She nods. "She's here. She brought us back, just as the imp told us she would."

"She's... she's all grown up?"

"Yes," Snow whispers. "She made it. She had a hard time, but she fought her way through. She's strong, and feisty. She's a fighter. She's _gorgeous_."

He seems choked up, stroking a hand down her face. "Like her mother."

Choked too, she swallows around a half laugh. "Us both, actually, I think. She's got a lot of you in there too. But I haven't been able to get a good look at her since I've been able to really see. We'll get to do that together now."

He makes a sound deep in his throat, half groan, half sigh, and lunging back towards her, he pulls her into his embrace, clutching her tight, kissing her soundly.

"Mmm," she hums, pulling back away from his kiss, thrilling at the scolding groan that came from deep in his throat, delighting in how he attempted to move with her, his head following hers, tracking her motion, forward as she went backward, keeping her from escaping his embrace. The noise that escaped her then, any other time, she would have feared could be construed as a whimper.

At this time, though, given the circumstances, whimpers seemed reasonably acceptable.

"You're really here?" she asks between kisses. "You're... you're really you?"

He gives up on his attempt to stay with her, pulling back just slightly enough that they could see each other clearly.

His eyes are shining.

"I am Prince James to our kingdoms, but to me, as I am to you, I have been Charming from the day I had you hoisted up above the Enchanted Forest in a net. We fell into a love the likes of which had never been seen before in any of the realms. You have an amazing talent for whacking me over the head, and I've fallen more in love with you every time you've done it. I am two times your husband, and right at this moment I'm feeling pretty close to ready to run off with you to find a church or a grand hall or an open clearing where we can see the stars and make it three."

Her hands tremble in his, and she draws in a shaky breath. She stares at him with huge eyes, overcome.

"You..." she stumbles, choked.

"It's really me, Snow," he continues, undaunted. "I know who I am. I am the one who belongs to you."

She laughs then, wild and free. "You're you," she murmurs. "It really is you. You're here... how can this... how can this even be happening?"

"You," he whispers, kissing her again, quick and easy, like they would be able to have longer kisses, more passionate kisses - millions of them - every day for the rest of their lives. "I can't explain it more than that. Just, you were there, right there in front of me, and I needed you. I needed to wake up so I could have you - so I did."

She shakes her head wonderingly. "Just that simple?"

He smiles, quick and boyish, and that, _that _is Charming all the way. "_Magic,_" he corrects. "_Our _magic. I love you. And that was enough. My love for you freed me."

"Love as freedom?"

He nods. "The imp did tell you our love was special. Magic."

Laughing again, she shakes her head at him. "Embracing the magic now?"

His eyes soften at that. "Ours. Our magic is fine with me. It always has been."

She closes her eyes, just for a second, giving herself another moment to convince herself that this is not a beautiful, bittersweet dream. He's here, he's playful, he's gentle, and he's still so loving. "I missed you so much," she tells him, fighting the tears.

"I'm here now," he promises, pulling her tighter into his embrace. "I promise, I'm not going anywhere."

At this, she has to kiss him, his lips first, then his jaw, the scar she gave him, so many years ago, faded with time but still there, still _theirs_, an ever-lasting mark of their story. "I love you," she whispers against that scar.

"I love you too," he murmurs, sounding every bit as choked up as she is. "We made it, my darling. We made it through."

And it's true, she thinks. Twenty-eight years. Through all the pain, all the agony, and all the loss. They've made it back here, to this moment, in each other's arms, and that has to be enough.

For now, for tonight, it's everything.

"We made it," she agrees. "Through everything."

And if she has her way, nothing and no one will ever tear them apart again.

(Snow White is a force to be reckoned with, especially when she's got Prince Charming by her side. She's bent kingdoms to her will in one world, she can do it in this one).

But for right now, right this minute, she's feeling quite content to stay right where she is, sitting on a field at the edge of the forest, the Toll Bridge just within view, the moon's light just filtering through the clouds, and her husband's arms wrapped around her tight. All night, she thinks, she'd be just fine with staying right here for the entire night, not wanting this moment to end.

Of course, from somewhere behind them, distant not for actual space but for how insignificant it is for two people whose entire world currently comes down to each other, she just manages to hear someone clearing their throat uncomfortably.

It occurs to her, vaguely, somewhere in the back of her mind that she never actually did see Abigail leave.

So, there's that.

* * *

><p>Charming had either not heard Abigail at all, or had unconsciously decided whatever he had heard was unimportant in contrast to his wife being right in front of him; but Snow staring at something past him, a bitterness to her eyes that is most out of character - that much is not something he can ignore, and he spins to see what she's looking at.<p>

He locks eyes with the blonde, and finds himself flying to his feet at once, bringing Snow - still tangled up with him - up with him. Caught up in a fury he doesn't understand, he's half reaching to his waist, as if he expects to find a sword there, when Snow touches his hand and he comes back to himself.

"It's fine, Charming," Snow murmurs, though she sounds far from it. "It's Abigail."

And he can see that, he thinks. It's somehow obvious, in her eyes maybe, but that doesn't make sense, that doesn't jive with the vague impressions of memories that David Nolan left behind.

"James?" Abigail tries, even attempting a smile, though she looks and sounds near tears so it doesn't go well for her.

He's barely paying attention. Images of a woman with Snow's face but none of her soul are filtering through his mind, blurry and confusing, and the brokenness of her expression in the most recent of these 'memories' is something he knows he never wants to see again.

But he understands.

He had reappeared quickly, breaking free of the curse with little warning, but David Nolan had done his best to leave some things behind. A general explanation of exactly what had happened earlier that night, just happened to be one of them.

Rage and disgust combine to twist in his stomach. He can feel Snow watching him anxiously as he stares at the woman he was once to marry. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wonders how cold his expression has gotten, how hard, but finds he does not care as long as Snow knows it's not directed at her. (He knows she knows).

"_Abigail_?" he hisses at the blonde. "What did you _do_?"

Her face falls, eyes closing on tears just for a moment, before she hardens in a way he'd never seen of her before. Abigail could be self-absorbed, yes, but not cold. Not cruel.

"I kept you both safe," she says evenly, determined. "Despite your own best efforts to get yourselves killed."

He doesn't know who this woman is, but it's not the princess he'd thought he knew.

"Through what means, Abigail?" he demands, and it's a fight to keep himself from screaming it. "How far were you willing to go? How cruel were you willing to be?"

She shakes her head, frustrated. "I thought you of all people would understand. The Evil Queen hates you both, and you always feared the lengths she would go to! She enacted this gods forsaken curse as revenge on the two of you! She knows the way to hurt you is through each other, do you honestly think she would just let you fall in love all over again as Mary and David? You're lucky she simply decided to put me in the way rather than just killing you! _Of course_ I went along with it, _of course_ I played the part. It meant keeping you alive, and that's all I've been trying to do this entire time. I've just been trying to keep my family safe."

"That wasn't family, Abigail," Snow says, sounding dangerously near tears. "Family... family doesn't do what you did."

"I kept you alive!"

"No," Snow replies softly. "You kept us trapped. You would have preferred it if Charming and I had never come back. Do not deny it. You're devastated right now to have _us_ standing in front of you. That's not family."

"I'm... I'm frightened for you! What Regina will do when she finds out you're back..."

"She doesn't have to find out. If we all play our parts right, she won't know. She won't be able to tell it's us."

"That's just a theory, Snow!"

"It's not," Snow murmurs. "I know my stepmother. She wouldn't have cursed herself. She would have taken joy in spending the last twenty-eight years seeing me trapped in Mary."

"Not this again," Abigail snaps. "You _were_ Mary."

Snow rolls her eyes, frustrated, while her husband blinks, confused.

"What's this about?" he asks.

His wife turns to look at him, wariness battling with absolute trust in her eyes. "Mary was... is... someone separate from me."

Abigail scoffs. Charming's brow goes heavy. "Okay?" he asks, prompting Snow to continue.

"I mean I could communicate with her. I did... I did communicate with her. Mare was in control, most of the time. It was her body. But I was there... I was in there with her. A presence in her mind. I kept getting stronger, and as I did, Mare and I got closer. She became - she is - my sister. Abigail thinks it's absurd. But it's not. It's real. Mare... I don't know what happened to her. I can't feel her with me in my head anymore. She's disappeared. But she's real. I promise, she's real. The curse was different for me, different for Mary and I."

Charming nods. "I could see Regina having tailored the curse to target you. She meant for your body to be your tomb when you took the poisoned apple, but I wrecked that plan, which infuriated her, as it really was her perfect revenge. She's vengeful. She would have taken satisfaction out of manipulating the curse to make it so that you were aware - even vaguely - of what was happening; to keep you feeling trapped within Mare... it is something Regina would do. She'd have found it entertaining to have turned your body into your tomb once more."

Snow bites her bottom lip. "You believe me," she murmurs wonderingly, but it's not a question - not even rhetorical - but a simple statement of fact.

He manages a half smile in reply. "Of course I do. How could I not?"

"No!" Abigail shrieks, and husband and wife turn away from each other to stare at the blond princess, who had come over very pale. "You two cannot do this. It's not safe. You're back now, and in grave danger for it. You cannot be wasting time and focus with this delusion. The curse doesn't work that way!"

"Charming just pointed out how it could easily work that way," Snow drawls, just on the edge of sarcastic. "Or were you not paying attention?"

Ignoring the quip, Abigail glares at Charming. "James, you know better. Tell her! She can't accept it. The curse turns _you_ weak, it doesn't create a whole new person! You're not helping your wife right now by indulging this! _Tell _her."

He recoils. "When did you get this cruel?"

"I prefer to call it realistic."

"You _do not_ get to talk to my wife like that," he hisses, quickly turning possessive over Snow in his fury, a trait recognizable from back in their land. He'd always been quick to refer to Snow as his when he got angry. "You do not get to speak to me about _my_ wife."

"I am your friend, who else is going to? I'm worried about her!"

Snow places a hand on her husband's shoulder, a calming influence breaking through the storm of his shaking rage. "Stop talking about me as if I'm not here."

"You might as well not be! You're not well! Babbling about someone who doesn't exist, chasing delusions! Mary Margaret was not separate from you, she _was _you!"

"You have no idea," Charming snaps. "Not one damn clue what you're talking about. Why is it so hard for you to accept that the curse effected different people in different ways?"

"It is entirely too convenient that it would only impact Snow differently!"

"Except that it didn't!"

Abigail furthers pale still, but she makes an effort at hiding it by snorting derisively. "Do not tell me you're planning on running off to chase David Nolan through the forest."

Charming's face has come over stony, but only Snow knows him well enough to see the regret in his eyes.

"David's gone," he says flatly.

Abigail gasps, horrified - for all her bravado, she hadn't expected that answer at all- and Snow pales, coming over every bit as white as Abigail already is.

"You... David?" Snow tries, incomprehensibly, but he's always understood her.

"Not like it was for you and Mary," he says, so gently. "I wasn't aware of what was going on, I wasn't conscious. I was barely there. It was like... like I imagine it must have been for you when you were trapped in the enchanted sleep. Buried in my own body. I was caught in limbo, until the very end."

"What happened-" Snow starts to ask, before cutting herself off with the realization of it.

"You know," Charming says, smiling. "David looked at you, expecting to see Mare..." he starts, and Snow has to smile at it, his easy acceptance of Mary's nickname, embracing the use of it himself. It's how she had come to think of and refer to her sister, and it's amazing to hear her husband do the same. "And instead he saw you, and it was as if a bomb had gone off in his head."

Snow laughs once, choked but real, shaking her head. "You," she smiles.

"Me," he nods. "You were there and I was awake and it shouldn't have been that simple but it was. All I needed was to see _you_. You broke though to me, and I kicked up one hell of a fuss in David's head-"

"He might have mentioned that," Snow commented wryly, fighting the urge to giggle and finding herself not entirely successful. "He called you a pain in the ass."

"Whoops," Charming sighs. "I really didn't mean to make it so hard on him. I just wanted out. Anyway, it still wasn't like it was for you and Mare. I couldn't really talk to him. Or at least I didn't think I could. Might have been able to if I'd tried; in retrospect, he seemed to get your name out of my screaming it in our head. I just... I just wanted out. I felt like I was bound and tied, fighting at chains..."

"That's the curse," Snow murmurs. "I know the feeling."

"I think David was helping me," he whispers. "He seemed to simply accept what was happening. He understood. And he opened his mind to me, to help me fight my way free, to try and let me out, despite what it meant for him."

Snow nods, accepting that easily. "He's a good man," she whispers.

"Mmm," he hummed. "I can see that. He was quite insistent on expressing to me that I needed to take care of you."

She blanches. "I thought you couldn't communicate with him?"

"I couldn't, or at least I didn't know how. He could. I think because he understood better than me what was going on. He tried very hard to get some things through to me, and that was one of them."

Snow swallows, tries to gather herself. "What else did he get through?"

"Some memories. Vague, you know? Blurry. But he wanted to help me understand the world I was waking up into."

"Anything else?"

For a second, only a second, Charming looks away, pained, but when he looks right back at his wife her eyes have already filled with tears.

"I need to know, Charming," she breathes.

He nods, accepting that. "He knew he had to go," he says, clearing his throat right after. "He didn't want you to worry. He said he was going to go be with Mare, and wherever they may end up, they'd be together. He had faith in that. He was certain they'd be okay, no matter what. And..."

"And?"

Charming closes his eyes, devastated for the knowledge of what this is going to do to her. "And he wanted me to make sure you knew... how very, very much Mare loved you."

Not wanting Abigail to see her break down, Snow fights it, but the sob escapes her, low and broken, choked off. It's the sound of a wild animal, defeated and cornered, and he aches for her, wishing he could spare his wife this pain.

"_Snow,_" he sighed, pained, reaching for her, towards her, the gesture of a reassurance he cannot provide her with.

She accepts it anyway, walking into his embrace, clutching at him desperately.

"I _miss_ her," she quietly cries into his shoulder, loud enough for only he to hear, and if nothing else, he's glad to be able to shield her from Abigail hearing her. "Already, I miss her so much. Where did she go? Where's Mare?"

"I don't know," he murmurs, honestly, and pained for it. He places a kiss to his wife's hair, firmer than he usually would, doing his best to soothe her. "I don't know where they've gone. But I promise you Snow, they're together wherever they are. David was certain of it."

She swipes at her face fiercely, wiping away tears. She pulls back away from Charming slightly, just enough to look up at him. "How could he be so sure?"

Charming manages a smile, gentle and with just enough hope to send her heart flipping.

"He could feel her, my darling," he whispers. "Every bit the same way I could always feel you when you were in trouble. She was calling to him."

"He could hear her?"

He shakes his head. "Just feel her. But you and I both know that matters more."

"How..."

"True love is an extraordinary thing."

Shock slackens Snow's pretty features. "I didn't tell you they were true loves."

He grins now, just a flash of it, just a spark, but it's enough. "And David didn't know enough to know that's what it was. The only way I could know - and given the fact that we were to our knowledge the only two people in our world who had ever experienced true love, the only reason I would have even guessed - is if I'd sensed it when he felt it."

She feels stunned, off balance with it, overcome. "You... felt..."

"I don't know where they ended up," he admits. "I don't know what happened to them. But I know the only reason he let go was for her. I know he went to her. And my darling, I promise you, wherever they are, they are together."

Charming, she knows, would never, ever lie to her. Especially about something like this. She trusts him, completely. More than that, she believes him now. She has to.

It feels like too much to hope for, and yet, it's impossible to let the idea go.

Mare is gone. But she is with David. It's not enough, it doesn't fix it, the profound loss she feels; but it's something to hold onto.

Wherever her sister is, she's not alone. She's with her true love. And so she will be happy. That _matters_.

She just doesn't really know how to tell _her _true love that. She can't find the words to say how much it means to her, this little piece of Mare that her husband has managed to give her back.

She swallows. "That's good," she says, and it's all she can manage. "That's really good."

His smile is so gentle, so loving, and she knows he understands anyway. It's always been one of Charming's many talents when it comes to her, his unfailing ability to read between the lines, to hear what she can't say.

"I think so," he agrees. "They'll be happy so long as they're together."

"Do you think they're gone forever?" she asks, needing to know.

His eyes, she notices, slightly sidetracked from the conversation, are still so kind. There's a strength in them - a promise to keep her standing when she can barely keep herself upright; and love, a fierce love that will always take her breath away, no matter how many times, how many days she gets to spend seeing it directed at her.

"I hope not," he says softly. "I want the chance to know them. You don't give your love away freely, and yet you clearly love them both deeply. I want to know anyone you love like that. We'll figure out what happened to them, Snow."

She stares at him, wide-eyed. "You really believe in them."

He gazes back at her, steady, though brow furrowed, just slightly confused. "Of course I do. I felt them too. Briefer, much briefer than you did obviously. I don't understand how it's possible, don't want to think of the kind of magic that made it so. But I know they're real. They exist as something separate from us. And that doesn't just disappear."

Something seizes her then, Snow White the survivor breaking through, and with the fierce joy of triumph she spins to face Abigail, still there, watching them both, looking every bit as though she'd just bourn witness to a car crash.

"You see?!" she exults. "I _told _you I wasn't insane."

Charming's grip on her tightens, landing just on the right edge of nearly painful, and she looks up, confused, to find her husband's face having gone stony, but for his eyes, dark and fiery.

"_What_ did you just say?" he hisses.

She's thrown off by it, this abrupt rage in him, so scarcely had she ever seen it before in their previous life.

"I..."

He doesn't wait for her to complete the thought, turning his furious stare to the other princess.

"_What the hell did you say to my wife_?!"

* * *

><p>Snow has a hand placed to Charming's chest, an attempt at restraint and calm reassurance both, but though he doesn't pull away from her, nor does he back down from Abigail.<p>

"Answer me, Abigail," he says, voice barely held in check, with the warning of heat on simmer. Snow hears the threat in it, and wonders if the other princess knows Charming well enough to hear it too.

And it seems she does, that or she has only just now learned the art of keeping her mouth shut. The blonde only stares at him, wide eyed and silent.

His jaw is clenched so tight she fears he'll crack it.

"Charming," she tries, realizing Abigail has effectively gone mute, and this conversation needs to happen somehow before her husband loses it. "It's okay."

"It's not," he says, still glaring at the other woman. "She can't say things like that to you, she has no right."

"Look at me," she murmurs, waiting for him to do so. "I mean it, look at me."

He finally pulls his stare from Abigail to look down at her, expression warming immediately as he does.

"Charming," she says softly. "It doesn't matter. She can say whatever she wants, I don't care. All I wanted was for you to believe me. And I got better than that. You understand. You've felt their existence too. I don't care what Abigail thinks. _You_ know different."

He shakes his head. "It hurt you anyway. Shehurt you. Don't deny it, I know you. You wouldn't have felt such a triumph in being able to prove her wrong if her doubts hadn't upset you. That's not alright with me, I don't accept it."

Turning back to face Abigail, his expression darkens once more. "Do you hear me? I won't have it."

A dull flush has come to Abigail's face, the slightest hint of anger. She shakes her head, laughing sardonically. Her anger, it seems, has returned her ability to respond.

"You are not my master, James," she hisses. "Nor are you my king. I do not have to obey you."

There is something dangerous sparking in his eyes. She'd warn Abigail off, if not for the fact that she can feel the same something in her own self.

"It is not obedience that I ask for. You know me better than that, at least, I thought you once did. What I ask for, what I _expect_ is for you to speak to my wife with respect."

"Respect is earned..."

"And she earned it when she went barreling into that Gods forsaken lake to save your life, with no thought to her own safety!" he snaps, patience gone. "As I did when I went traipsing in there to retrieve the water to save your love! All we've ever done is been there for you! And we have asked for nothing in return, _nothing_, save for right now, this moment, in which I ask that you show my wife some damn respect!"

Stricken, Abigail rages back. "I respected the Snow White and James I knew back in our land! The fearless protectors, the extraordinary fighters, the warriors who would have done anything for their people! _Oh_, how I admired those two people! That's not who I'm seeing here! _They _knew who they were, _they_ knew their own minds! What happened to you? Both of you, babbling about chasing ghosts!"

"If you'd listened to us at all you'd know that's not what is going on!" Snow snarls.

"It's exactly what's going on! _Maybe_ the curse was different for you! Maybe Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan did exist as something separate from Snow and James, but even if they did, they're gone. You got stronger, you took over, you forced them out. They're _gone_. You are here now. They are _dead_."

Snow recoils to such an extent that it's only Charming's hold on her that keeps her upright.

"You don't know that," he hisses.

"You _both_ know it," Abigail finishes, ignoring him. "And I care too much about you both to let you delude yourselves. Let Mary and David go."

"How did you get like this?" Charming demands. "When did you become this cruel, this vindictive?"

"I was alone," Abigail hisses. "All alone, dealing with the life you and your wife got us all cursed into. You weren't here. I was without Frederick. I was all alone, trying to keep us all safe. I got realistic. Regina still hates you both. You will never suffer enough to make her happy. All I've done, _all I've done_ from the moment she plucked me out of obscurity, made me part of the curse - and accidentally brought me out from its effects - has been to prevent her from destroying you. I'm not the doe eyed naive little girl you once knew anymore. I've grown up. I'm part of this fight too. And I would not let Regina destroy you."

Charming shakes his head, disgusted. "Was it easier, then, to just destroy us yourself? You had no right, Abigail! You abused the role you were cast as Kathryn to torture Mary and David, to keep them apart, to effectively keep Snow and I separated as well. You _knew_ what that would do to us. You saw me when I was without Snow back in our land, how wrecked I was. You were _with_ Snow when the imp told her we had the only true love in existence, that to keep us apart would be impossible, for even the most vile of curses could not break our connection! You know how powerful, how consuming our love for each other is, how desperately we would want to be together, how agonized we would be to be apart! What did you think it would accomplish to keep us separated?"

His hands are balled into fists, his eyes flash dangerously, and Snow finds herself trying to think if she had ever seen him angrier.

"Can you even _fathom_ the pain of loving someone like that and not being able to be with them every second of every day?" he continues, demanding. "It was hateful, what you did. Regina stood back and watched as Mary and David fell further and further in love with each other, and did _nothing_. Nothing, because she had you to do her dirty work for her! There was no real risk to our safety, not yet. Working so hard to force them apart, it was unnecessary. There was no need for it. You could have gone to them, tried to explain. You could have helped them. And failing that, you could have just let him go. Let them be. _That_ would have been the right thing to do. And that would have made you stronger, made you be more than Regina's lackey. Instead, you did nothing but play along with Regina's schemes, regardless of who it hurt. That's not being part of this fight. That's weakness. You are no fighter, Abigail."

Abigail looks away, shaken and teary, the anger having drained right out of her. "I did what I thought was best."

Charming stares back at her evenly. "And you were wrong."

"We're never going to agree on that," Abigail sighs, trying to hide the pain she's in behind a facade of simply feeling put-out. "I think what I did was right. I did the best I could with an awful situation. You don't agree. You don't accept what I did, fine. But can you move past it?"

His glare does not lessen.

"No."

Shock staggers her. "_What?_"

"What you did was cruel. To me, to Snow, and to the innocent people we were cursed into. And you've still made no apologies. You stand there, high and mighty, after knowingly keeping us apart, despite your knowing with absolute certainty that to do so would torture us. You forced David into breaking both his and Mary's hearts, you taunt my wife about me, you call her insane, you torture us both with the possibilities of what may have happened to Mare and David. No, Abigail. I do not move on. I do not forgive. Not now. I don't know what happened to you. You're not the person I thought I knew."

Abigail shakes her head, giving up. She's done, finished, and despite everything, they all know it. Looking up at them with a blank, emotionless stare, she has to ask, "So what now then?"

Snow clutches his shoulder as she steps in front of him, answering for him, answering as the team they've always been. "We do what we can. We do what we have to. We move forward," she says softly. "We have no other option but to figure it out as we go. But for now, for tonight? Go home, Abigail. As we shall. We're done."

Charming reaches around for her hand, clasping it in his own, even as he delivers one last glare towards his former fiancee.

With his wife by his side, he turns to walk away believing there to be nothing left to say.

"Stop," Abigail says, not as a demand, but with the bitter regret of someone who can't quite believe what they're saying.

Going against themselves and their instincts, Snow and Charming freeze together, and loop back around to face Abigail once more.

"We can't be rash on this," Abigail murmurs, almost apologetically. "It's too dangerous. We can't let Regina get suspicious. James, you should come home with me."

* * *

><p>The silence does not last long, the half second between heartbeats if that, but it is stark in its suddenness, in the way the whole forest seems to come to a still with it.<p>

"Excuse me?" he furiously begins to demand, but gets cut off by his wife throwing herself in front of him, in between he and Abigail. She is every bit the Snow White he remembers, the woman who would unholster his own ceremonial sword to point it at a vengeful enemy, putting herself between him and their foe.

"No way in hell," she hisses threateningly, and that's familiar too, her being fearless, strong, and contrary to anyone who would attempt to keep them apart.

"Regina was expecting Kathryn to win tonight! For David to make the noble sacrifice and go back to Kathryn to protect his precious Mary Margaret. What do you think is going to happen if that doesn't happen?" Abigail demands.

"Well," Snow says sarcastically. "I imagine she'll enact her diabolical plot to destroy Mare's life, exactly as you told David she would if he didn't let Mare go."

"Because _surely_ The Evil Queen lets Kathryn Nolan know everything she's thinking!" Abigail snaps, throwing Snow's sarcasm right back at her. "We don't know that she will be satisfied with turning you into the town tramp! For all we know, she'll just decide to kill you both, and it's not worth the risk! We _must_ make her believe that all went as she expected it to tonight."

"Great," Snow says, eyes flashing. "Then _my husband _and I will continue on home as originally planned."

"Did you not hear a word I just said..."

"We heard you!" Charming snaps. "You said that we need to make Regina believe that tonight went as she expected it too. The thing is, that doesn't mean what you think it means. We know Regina, Abigail. Far better than you do, as a matter of fact. And she knows us, or at least she thinks she does, and she'll have thought she knew Mary and David too. Mary and David wouldn't have been able to let each other go. True love doesn't work in a way that lets people in it be apart willingly. Regina knows that. She would have expected them to work through it, to choose each other. We're going to let her think that's exactly what happened."

"That's not what happened!" Abigail shrieks, panicked. "You're re-writing the story to suit what you want, and you can't do that! David let her go, he broke them both!"

"And then he changed his mind," Charming says, softly, though threateningly. "You were there for that part, I believe. He was going after Mare, to fight for her."

Triumph shines in Snow's eyes. "And Mary was ready to go back to find David, to not let him let her go. She was going to fight for him too. They would have worked their way back to each other... had circumstances not intervened. I don't know where they are now. But if Charming and I have to play them, we owe it to them to do, and be, as they would have. They would have made it back to Mare's apartment tonight. So that is what we shall do. You're not going to stop us. You're not going to hurt us, not again, not anymore."

Abigail throws her arms up in the air, shaking her head, smiling sardonically, without humor or joy. "And what do you expect me to do?"

"Do nothing, Abigail," Snow sighs. "Go home to Kathryn Nolan's house, hide yourself away, and let us deal with what comes next. Focus your attentions on your own life, rather than trying to destroy mine. Go to the school, find Frederick, he's a gym teacher there, Mare occasionally chatted with him between classes. He is fine but he's not complete, in that way that everyone under the curse is just a little lost, the way everyone cannot take that last step towards happiness. See if you can wake him," she suggests calmly, before her tone of voice changes.

"Or play Kathryn the way you've seen fit to do so far, and go crying to Regina about how your brilliant plan failed, and how Mary and David are still together, wait and see what she does with that. I don't care. Hey, if you want, go tell her that the curse is weakening, that Charming and I are back, and that oh, by the way, you've been awake and out from under the curse ever since she thought it would be a swell idea to torment me by pulling you out of thin air to act as my husband's wife. That should go over fabulously. Do whatever you want, Abigail. You always do. My husband and I will deal with whatever gets thrown at us. Together. He's coming home with me. We will not be apart."

"You're both fools," Abigail hisses.

Charming raises an eyebrow. "Perhaps. I don't care. I am not going to be without my wife any longer. You're not going to separate us again."

"I will say it one last time," Snow hisses, voice tight. "We are done, Abigail."

And this time, when they turn to walk away, the other princess does not bother to try to stop them.

* * *

><p>Against herself, and her own determination not to give Abigail the satisfaction, she gives in to the instinct to look back after a few minutes.<p>

In doing so, she feels herself gripped with the exhausting breath of air that is relief.

"She's gone," Snow murmurs to her husband. "She's left. It's over."

He hums under his breath, glancing back to see for himself. "I don't... I still cannot understand what happened to her. That wasn't Abigail, Snow. Not the Abigail we knew."

She attempts a smile, but she knows it falls flat. "The curse changed her, Charming. It took everyone's weaknesses and inflated them, made it so that everyone's cursed persona was nothing but an amalgamation of their weaknesses. Abigail was always selfish, and as Kathryn, that just got worse, until she was nothing else, could see or do nothing else beyond what was best for her."

"She's not Kathryn anymore! She hasn't been for a very long time! Hell, _Kathryn_ was never in any of our lives. She had woken up from the moment Regina tried to dump her into David's life, and yours and Mary's by default."

"No," Snow agrees. "It was Abigail living as Kathryn. She could never let herself be Abigail, had to continue to make herself be Kathryn to maintain pretense. I can see how that would have changed her. She's not Kathryn, but she's become more her than she is the Abigail that we knew."

Charming shakes his head in response. "I can't accept that. You're still you. I'm still me. How is it that the curse could have changed her so much? You and I have been out from under it for a matter of hours. Abigail has been free for months, has had free will for _months_. She should know who she is. If anything, _we _should be the ones confused, we should be the ones for whom the lines are blurred."

Snow shrugs. "The curse was different for me. It was different for you. I'm trying really hard not to judge what the curse was for Abigail, because truly, I _don't_ know what it was for her."

"Please tell me you're not making excuses for her."

Snow smiles wryly. "No, Charming, I promise you I'm not. Nor will I ever. I cannot forgive her for what she did to Mare, the pain she put my sister through. Knowing that it was Abigail all along, that it was never Kathryn... I don't even want to think of it. No, I'm not making excuses. Either she has changed into someone I don't know or recognize, or that's just who she was all along, and we just didn't notice, or ignored it, trying to see goodness that was never there. I just... I want to believe the former. I want to believe that this was the curse's doing, that it broke her somehow. I want to believe that the woman you and I once considered family was real."

He swallows. "And if she wasn't? If we were wrong all along?"

Sighing, Snow stops walking, turns to face her husband, grips both his hands in hers.

"I don't think we were," she murmurs, reassuringly. "For all our faults, all the mistakes that we've made, I don't think we're bad judges of character. Abigail was... she was always selfish, always self-absorbed. We knew that about her. But we also knew how she could love, and the way she would never give up on those who she cares about. Often she'd go about it the wrong way, as she did with her father. That trait has always been part of her, that rash impulsiveness, the way she never stops to think when she gets desperate. The curse exaggerates weaknesses. She would have been worse as Kathryn... it seems at least possible that even when she woke up, she tried so hard to continue to be Kathryn that she lost sight of who Abigail was."

He tries a half-hearted smile. "Do you think she'll ever be able to get back to just being Abigail?"

Her own smile in reply is far more genuine, though small and gentle. "If she can get Frederick back, maybe. He always brought out the best in her. I hope so, anyway. I miss the girl I thought I knew."

"Me too," he sighs, and then his face clears, his smile abruptly bright and real. "But you're you. You, my darling Snow, are so beautifully, perfectly, you."

She laughs, radiant, as he strokes a hand down her cheek. "And you're you, Charming. I'm so glad it's you. You have no idea... no idea how badly I needed you."

He shakes his head. "No," he tells her seriously. "No, I know. Believe me, I know."

"I love you," she murmurs, tearing up. "Thank you for being here. Thank you for believing me. Thank you for having my back. Thank you for being you."

"Always," he promises, gently kissing her. "It's you and me now. We will figure everything out. Together."

She kisses back, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him in close, wanting nearer to him than is actually possible.

She'll take as close as she can get.

"Together," she agrees, exhaling the word on a slightly staggered breath, humming against his lips. "Mmm, but Charming, we've got to take that first step."

"Yeah?" he asks, voice rough enough to make it half a growl. "Name it."

"I need..." she tries, and stumbles, as her husband moves his attention to her neck. "You need to... Charming, stop for a second, you know I can't think when you do that."

"Mmhmm," he hums, muffled as he lightly nips and bites at the sensitive spot where her neck meets her collar. "That's the idea."

"Charming!" she tries, though the scold is rendered useless by both the desperately breathy tone it is delivered with, and the strangled laugh that trails it. "I'm being serious."

"Yeah? Me too," he murmurs, before dipping his tongue into the hollow of her throat.

She groans, "You're not playing fair."

He chuckles lightly against her, the vibrations of it tickling her skin. "I never promised to. You're the fair one, not me."

Laughing, she shoves at him, creating just the slightest bit of distance between them, giving herself room to actually breathe. "Oh, you did not just make a 'fairest of them all' joke with me."

He grins at her, smug and cheerfully unrepentant. "I believe I just did. You gonna punish me for it?"

He is her Charming, and she can read him every bit as well as she ever could back in their own land, their life. There are hundreds of suggestions in his eyes and smile, and Gods help her, she _wants_ - fiercely wants - every last one of them.

But there are a few considerations that have to be made first.

She smirks at him, just a quick flash of it, enough to keep him hungry for her. "Oh, you'll get yours. Later."

"I'll look forward to it," he says, softly, his countenance changing, going serious in response to whatever he can see on her face. "Now tell me. What is it, my darling? What's got you so serious?"

She swallows, abruptly nervous. "We... either you or I... Charming, one of us needs to call Emma."

His immediate hesitation matches her own, eyes wide and near terrified.

"Emma?" he asks, just the slightest break in his voice. "I'm not... Snow, I don't know if I'm ready. We got an _hour_ with her. She was an hour old, a newborn baby in every sense of the phrase. In my mind, it's like she still is, and now she's..."

"She's all grown up," Snow says softly, finishing for him. "She's an adult, and we missed that, we missed her growing up and that will never be okay, but it happened, Charming. She's hardened and she's tough, but she _loves_, she loves so fiercely. She got that from you. And Charming, we need to... well, we're going to need to figure out what we're going to do, but we need to let her know I'm okay, because she's probably out somewhere looking for me the way David was. Abigail..." she started, then cut herself off, trying to choke back the repeated rage that sprung up in her at the idea. "She mentioned that the three of them had been together when Mare screamed."

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes. "Why _did _Mare scream, Snow?"

She shakes her head. "It was nothing. You know me, I took care of it. That's when she vanished, when I took over our body to take care of it."

The fire in his eyes calms slightly, shifts to concern at the guilt and pain in her voice. "You know that's not your fault."

"Isn't it?" she asks, softly. "It was my idea. I told her to let me out. And she did, she trusted me, and then she was gone."

"No," Charming scolds lightly. "I don't think it was like that. When it was me, David knew he had to go. And if you're being honest with yourself, I think you'd have to admit that it was the same thing with Mare, wasn't it?"

Snow sighs, chokes back a sob, then thinks about it, _really_ thinks about it for the first time. Mary... she had been scared and upset, but more than that, she had seemed resigned. As if she'd known her fate, and had accepted it. The fear and the devastation that had been in her inner voice, it hadn't been about their pursuer.

It had been about saying goodbye.

She looks up at him, wide-eyed, and he smiles at her, closed-lipped and bittersweet.

"She knew?" she asks with a whisper. "She knew she had to go?"

"Yeah," he replies gently, "yeah, I think she did."

Snow closes her eyes, walking blind into Charming's waiting embrace, letting her husband hold her.

"I really wish she hadn't done that," she whispers.

"I know," he says, stroking a hand over her hair, a reassuring gesture that went back to their own land. "But I think she did what she felt she had to do, just like you did. You can't begrudge her that, my darling."

"No," she agrees, wiping furiously at the tears that had begun working their way down her face. "But when I find her - and I _will_ find her, Abigail is wrong, she has to be - Mare is in _so_ much trouble."

Charming chuckles, low and pleased. "There's my girl."

She smiles up at him, and it comes easier this time. "But first," she starts, pushing herself up onto her toes for a gentle kiss. "Charming," she says, as she settles her feet back onto the ground, "we do need to figure out what we're going to do about Emma."

He tenses up again, immediately. "I'm scared," he admits. "I know we knew this was coming. I know this is the deal we made, to save her, to save everyone. But I can't wrap my head around the twenty-eight years now that they're over. It feels... I feel like I _just _put her in that wardrobe, and she should be a baby, our little girl."

"We were frozen in time," Snow says softly. "Still are. And you... your body... was in a coma for most of it. Of course you would feel that way. It's only natural. And Emma will always be our little girl, regardless of... the more than slightly unusual circumstances we've found ourselves in."

He nods, accepting that. "How do you want to handle this? You know her. I'll follow your lead."

"I was just there. _Mare's _the one whoknew... knows her," Snow corrects gently. "David knows her too. They've formed almost a little family, the three of them. They're each other's best friends. Emma and Mare live together."

He breathes out slowly, dealing with that.

"You said she was there? With David and Abigail?" he asks roughly.

She nods. "That's what Abigail said."

Concentrating his attention on the vague, slightly blurry memories David was able to pass on, he finds Abigail, lets himself feel David's fury, pain and frustration, but then focuses in on someone else, the other woman who had been there, the genuine protectiveness David had felt for her. He'd wanted Abigail no where near her.

"The blonde," he croaks, caught up in the realization. He clears his throat. "That's our daughter?"

Snow manages a slightly watery smile. "That's Emma," she confirms.

"She... she looks just like you," he says, stunned with it, how much he adores the idea. "She's got your curls. I'd hoped she would."

Snow shakes her head. "I think when we see her... _really_ see her... we'll see a lot of you in there too."

He nods blankly. "She's gorgeous. Just like you said."

She smiles back at him, spurring his own, and for a moment it's genuine, and easy, and feels just like home.

"How much do you remember?" she asks. "Of David's life, I mean."

He sighs. "David's a good man. He tried to help, tried to make things easier. As I told you, he knew he had to go. I don't know how that worked. He understood more than I did, and as he was leaving, he concentrated on what he thought I'd need to know. That's how I knew what Abigail did to them. But beyond that... he had so little time..."

Understanding, Snow sighs. "And he didn't know what Emma meant to us."

Thinking about it, really letting himself focus, Charming interjects. "But he knew what she meant to him. He adored her. I can still kind of feel it, when I focus on it. It's different from how I feel towards her. He wanted her to be okay. You, and her, and... a boy?"

Snow winces, knowing he's not going to like this. "Henry. Emma's son."

He pales. "She has a son?"

"I know it's hard. I know it's impossible to wrap your head around right now, and I know it hurts like the fires of all hells at once. But that baby we let go of, she spent the last twenty-eight years growing up, while we were frozen still. She had a baby of her own."

He swallows, focusing on keeping his hands from shaking in hers. "I... I hadn't realized how much we were giving up. Twenty-eight years, it didn't seem as long back then as it does now."

"I know," she murmurs, "and you know I do. We're the only people in this world who can understand what the other is feeling right now."

"We always have been that way," he agrees. "No matter what I'm feeling, I've always known you would be the one who would understand."

Gripping his hand tighter, she pulls it up to her lips, places a kiss on his knuckles. "There's something else you need to know."

"What is it?" he asks, knowing her expression well enough to be immediately worried.

"Emma... Emma was eighteen when she had Henry. She was so young, and she couldn't really take care of him. She put him up for adoption to give him a better life than she could then."

"But... he's with her now?"

She looks down. "No. Not really. He's just... he's here, in town. I don't know or understand how. It has to be more than coincidence. Charming... Regina adopted him."

Fury flashes in his eyes. "No."

"Charming."

"No! He's our... he's our _grandson_, Snow. And he's with _her_? Let's go."

"Go where?" Snow demands, worried.

"Go get him! Get him out of that witch's house!"

"We can't!" Snow insists, gripping his arm tight, not letting him pull away.

"The hell we..."

"Listen to me! What are we going to do, march into Regina's house, swords drawn, announce 'Hey, we're out from the curse, it's us, and by the way, Henry's ours, give him to us and we'll kill you!'?"

Despite himself, despite his fury, the hints of a smirk play at Charming's lips. "Shouldn't it be 'give him to us _**or**_we'll kill you'?"

Snow simply raises an eyebrow at him, and the laugh actually does escape him, strangled though it is. "Fair enough. It would be 'and'."

Sensing he's already calming, at least enough to listen to her, she loosens her grip. "I don't think Regina knows much of anything, Charming. I don't think she knows Emma's our daughter, and I'm positive she doesn't know that Emma's the savior. And if we play this right, I don't think she'll be able to tell we're awake. We can't go stomping in there now, Charming. We can't give away what few advantages we have."

"So we leave our grandson with _her_ then?"

"For now," she replies softly. "We'll get him as soon as we can. Trust me when I say I don't like this any more than you do. But the situation could easily be worse, and we don't want to act too quickly and make it so. Henry is safe. She named him after her father, I think she adopted him to help her loneliness and need for love. For all her hate, she would never hurt him. And she allows him to see Emma, much as she dislikes it. She would put a stop to it if she could without alienating herself from him, but she can't. Henry adores Em. So right now the status quo... is the best we've got."

"That settles it then," he sighs.

"What do you mean?"

"We play our parts. You'll have to help me... you'll have to help me be David. Though I think I got a decent feel for him, I don't know him the way you know Mare. You'll have to let me know when I'm acting out of character. We act as the people Regina expects us to be, so we can keep the advantage that Regina doesn't know it's really us, until we can figure out what to do next. The only question is..."

"Do we play for Emma too, or do we tell her the truth," Snow finishes for him.

The half smile she'd always adored appears back on his face. "Exactly."

They both sigh together, before he speaks up again. "What do you think? I meant what I said before. I'll follow your lead. You know Emma, or at least, you were there for it as Mare knew her."

Snow sighs. "Emma is... protective of her own heart. She's got walls built a mile high, but she'd begun letting Mary and David, and of course Henry in them. I wasn't kidding about the little family they were starting to form, a family of their own making, own choosing. But she's not one for the 'happily ever after'. Just 'happy' on its own, I think that still stuns her. She believes in what she knows, and nothing beyond that. I don't want to say she's close-minded, because she's not. It's just... this is a world without magic. _That's_ what she knows. She's not going to understand, if we go back to that apartment trying to tell her we're her fairy tale parents. To her, it would seem crazy. It would frighten her... she would be afraid for us."

He strokes her cheek, trying to hide his own desperate sadness, knows she'll see through it anyway. "So we keep up the act for Em too?"

Snow bites her lip, frustrated. "She's going to see the difference. She knows Mare and David too well. It won't matter how well we play the part, Emma will see through it. If nothing else, she'll know something's wrong."

Distracted for a few seconds by one of the vague memories he has from David, Charming shakes his head. "I think she already did. Emma... I think Emma was worried about Mare even before they heard her scream."

Snow nods slowly. "That would be my fault. Mary tended to go a little blank whenever I broke through too strongly. It was often as though she could only concentrate on one world at once, her world around her, or the world in which I existed in her head. She'd gotten a bit better at outwardly dealing with it as she got used to me, but earlier tonight... I slipped. Or, really, the curse slipped. Henry said something - he believes the truth by the way, he has a book with all our stories in it, and he figured it all out - and it made her remember a dream I'd had. I'd dreamt about eating the apple. And she knows this world's version of my story well enough to have figured out what it meant. Realizing you've got Snow White living in your head, well it was understandably overwhelming for her. She was obviously freaked out, and that scared the crap out of Emma."

Charming shakes his head, overwhelmed himself. "This world's version of our stories?"

She laughs, slightly strangled. "We're quite famous here, though not as... us? Somehow our stories got a little bastardized over the years, going from our history to this world's 'make believe'. But somehow, Mare got her hands on a book that had the true stories in it, and gave it to Henry. And before you ask, no, Mare could never remember where she got the book. Hazy, or non existent memories, you'll find are the norm here - the curse's doing."

Running a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture, he sighs. "There's so much I don't know. How in the world am I going to pull this off?"

"Instincts?" she suggests. "You've always been strong that way. Go with your gut most of the time. Your body was David's for a long time, you've still got something of the feel of him, and whatever knowledge he was able to pass through to you as he left."

"In other words, don't try too hard to be David, just do and... well, be what comes naturally?"

She nods. "I think it's the only way it's going to work."

"So we go with it then. We try to maintain an act without forcing it, with everyone. Including Emma. She's the only one who knows Mare and David well enough that we might have a problem with her, but we hope that she'll just accept it as being part of whatever was already up with them."

Snow smiles. "I don't think I could have said it any better."

"So now what?"

"Now? Now we call her. Let her know Mare's... let her know I'm okay."

Nodding, Charming reaches into his pocket, pulls out David's cell phone, then freezes, staring at it as if he'd never seen anything like it before.

She can't help but smile. "Instinct," she says softly. "I don't know if it's just muscle memory or what, but when I said 'call', your immediate reflex was to pull out the phone. You've got this, Charming. Go with what feels naturally."

After eying his wife for a moment, he turns his attention back to the phone. Focusing on _not_ thinking too much about it, he goes to the contacts, finds Emma's name.

His hands shake.

"Am I ready for this?" he asks.

"It's impossible to be ready for it," Snow says gently. "We've just got to take that leap of faith anyway."

Nodding, swallowing, he hits dial, puts the phone to his ear. It rings twice.

"David?!" Emma suddenly demands in his ear, voice worried, and winded as if she'd been running, which she probably had.

He exhales. One tear slides down his face. His hand still shakes around the phone.

_Do what feels natural. _

"Hey Em," he finally says, just managing to keep his voice from breaking. He looks up at Snow as he says it, making eye contact, and at that, his face relaxes. With a wink and a smile for his wife, he is able to tell his daughter, "It's okay. I found her."

* * *

><p>It gets easier.<p>

Emma exhales a strangled sort of breath, part sigh of relief, part scream, and part sob. He can hear how much Emma adored Mary in that sound alone, and it is that, along with his wife's quiet support that calms him.

He knows how to deal with people who love with all their heart.

"Is she alright?" Emma asks, shaky, but already calming down with the knowledge that 'David's got her.

"I promise, she's fine," he reassures. "She's right here in front of me."

"And by in front of you, do you mean securely wrapped in your embrace?" Emma asks, half sarcastically, half hopeful, and leaning more towards the hopeful side.

He chuckles, tries hard to ignore the idea that it's the first time his daughter has ever made him laugh, and the significance of that moment. Emma had clearly inherited her mother's spunk.

"I've got an iron tight grip on her hand," he promises. "Probably going over the line to too hard, but I think she can take it."

She laughs lightly, and his stomach flips.

"So the two of you," she starts, and he can hear the attempt to be blase about it in her voice (he wonders if she's just that obvious, or if he can hear it because of some parental instinct. He hopes its the latter). "You worked everything out?"

"Yes," he promises. "We're together. That's all that matters."

She hums, accepting that, easier than David might have deserved, he thinks, and he feels the need to add something else, for both David and himself. "I promise you Emma," he says while staring at Snow, "I will never hurt her again."

"You better not," Emma says, but her tone is sincere and affectionate, rather than threatening, and he knows that she'd accepted the promise as it was given. She seems more relaxed now than she had at any other point in the conversation, and her breathing has finally evened out from how staggered it had been as she caught her breath. "Can I talk to her?"

He eyes Snow, and she looks questioningly back at him for a moment before she understands - able to read him easily as always - and she nods with a slightly shaky smile that tells him that she's as nervous about it as he was.

"Sure Em," he says into the phone, though he's already regretting getting off the line (he'd be happy to talk to his daughter forever). "She's right here." About to pass the phone off, he freezes, then says into it, "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Of course," Emma replies softly, giving him the reassurance he needs whether she knows that's what it is or not.

He is able to hand the phone to his wife with a smile.

"Emma?" Snow tries as she takes the phone, but it's as far as she can get before her daughter is yelling at her.

"What. The. Hell. Happened?"

"Em..."

"No. Don't 'Em' me. I let David get away without giving me details because he's been through enough. Because he was there with me, and when you screamed he cried out for you and I will _never_ be able to get the terror and agony that was in his voice when he cried your name out of my head, so no. He gets a break. But you, you will tell me. Right. Now. Why did you scream, and don't tell me that it was nothing, because you screamed like someone who was scared for their life."

Wincing, Snow looks up at Charming. He is watching her intently, clearly able to hear Emma yelling through his phone, and if Snow knows her husband, he's waiting for this answer too.

She sighs.

"There was a man..." she starts.

Fury jumps immediately into Charming's eyes.

Emma, on the other hand, is completely silent for exactly three seconds before she explodes.

"Who is he? I'll kill him. Wait, did David already do that? Fine, I'll resuscitate him. I'll bring him back so that I can kill him. And then do you know what I'll do?"

"I'm gonna guess kill him?" Snow suggests wryly.

"No mocking me tonight Mare," Emma snaps, though there is some vague note of relief in her voice, as if she's delighted to find her best friend still capable of her recent spunk. "I'm right on the edge right now. Who was the guy? Did you recognize him?"

"Not at all," Snow replies honestly. "And it was strange. Most people I'd at least know on sight from seeing them around town, but this guy I'd never seen before."

"What did he do, Mary?"

Snow sighs. "I still don't really know what he was planning on, what his motives were. At first he just caught me off guard. I was upset and distracted, and he was just suddenly there. I had a bad feeling, but I apologized, and he... he said something like it being his fault, that it would be much easier if I was distracted. The look in his eyes unnerved me, I started backing away, but he kept coming after me, matching me step for step. I took off running, he chased after me, and in the desperate hope that someone nearby could help, I screamed, which you guys heard."

"You were so deep in the woods Mare," Emma groaned. "So far off. Why the hell did you..." she stops, cutting herself off mid sentence.

"I was upset," Snow admits, answering anyway. "And not paying much attention to where I was going. After I'd left David, I just wandered off through the woods. The fact that this stranger found me anyway makes me think he might have been following me for awhile. I don't know what he was up to, I don't know what he wanted, but it wasn't any good."

Emma swallows audibly, the horror of what could have happened obviously dawning on her. "Did you out run him, or did David find you in time, or?"

She winces, hating having to lie to her daughter, but knowing that the truth was far too out of Mare's character to tell Emma. "I don't really know what happened. It was all a blur, the adrenaline kicked in... He was gaining on me, I couldn't run any longer, he basically had me in his grip, and I flailed out. I don't even know if I hit him, I just got away somehow."

"That makes sense," Emma mumbles, lost in thought. "Many people who experience trauma block it out afterwards.

She closes her eyes, tries to ignore the guilt, to ignore the way she can feel Charming staring at her, having easily recognized the lie.

"He didn't hurt me," she promises. "I'm a bit scratched up, but otherwise I'm fine. David's got me now."

"Can you describe him for me?" Emma asks. "I need to figure out who the hell he is and get him in a cell. With him on the loose, he could come after you again, or go after somebody else. It's not worth the risk of having him out there running free."

She gives Emma the best description she can, though she doesn't know how much help it's going to be. He'd been clean-cut, tall and handsome, as many of the men in town are. His clothing had been unusual, but not overly so. His most defining feature had been those crazed blue eyes, and in a town of cursed fairy tale characters, that doesn't narrow things down much.

If nothing else, she is able confirm for Emma that she would know him if she saw him. She doesn't know what help that'll be either, but it seems to cheer Emma up, so she keeps her mouth shut about it.

Finishing up with the details involved in having the Sheriff as a very protective roommate, she asks carefully if Emma has any other questions for her.

"Just... are you really okay, Mare?" Emma asks, suddenly sounding so young and fragile that Snow has to concentrate hard on not gasping audibly.

"I am," she starts, then reconsiders. "I'm safe. And as for okay, I'm getting there."

It's the absolute truth, for once in this conversation, no half-truths or white lies, and it feels really good.

"Okay," Emma says softly, accepting it. "I'm glad."

"Me too," she murmurs fondly.

Emma clears her throat, changing the topic of discussion quickly. "So, um, you and David should head back to the apartment. I'm going to be quite late home tonight, just to let you know, so you'll have the place to yourself for a couple hours at least."

"Em," she scolds, immediately worried. It's difficult not to slip right into 'Mom' mode, and she worries she doesn't manage it at all, only able to hope that Mary's own mother hen tendencies will cover for her. "Please don't do anything stupid."

"I won't," Emma promises. "I've spent more than an hour running through the woods looking for you, I've had enough of that for the night. Besides, it's pitch black out at this point, I'm not going to be able to see a damn thing even if I did go looking for him. No, I'm just going to go back to the station and go through old arrest records from before I got to town and started working there, see if I can find anyone in there that meets your description. Don't know if I'll find anything, but it's a starting point at least."

"That's actually a really good idea," Snow replies, impressed by her daughter's ingenuity.

"Well yeah," Emma teases lightly. "I'd like to think I'm the sheriff for a reason."

"Many," Snow corrects, fond, and so proud. "Many reasons."

She can practically hear Emma's smile.

"Thanks Mare. I needed to hear that."

"Always, Em," she murmurs, resisting the urge to call her 'sweetheart' instead. "Where are you now?" she asks, needing to know that her daughter is safe.

"Now that I know you're safe, I just left the woods. I'm walking down Main on the way back to the station. Why?"

She smiles, soft and reassured. "I need to know you're safe just as you needed to know I was. I didn't love the idea of you wandering through the woods by yourself, and I was going to say David and I would come meet you, but if you're already back in town..."

"I am. I actually just walked past Archie with Pongo. They say 'hi'."

She chuckles. "I'd say hi back, but knowing the way you walk when you're on a mission, I suspect you're already half a block away from them."

"Guilty as charged. But there you go, you can know for sure that I am perfectly safe, and head on back to the apartment without worry. But, hey... put me on speaker for a second first, okay? There's something I want to say to both of you."

Confused, she does as Emma asks, and holds the phone out towards her husband.

"David?" Emma says, echoing slightly as one does on speaker.

Snow sees that her husband looks about as bewildered as she feels, but she thanks the gods when he responds to the name quickly.

"Yeah Em?"

"Good, you both can hear me, so you're both gonna listen. You two work, okay. You fit. You belong together..."

"Em," Snow starts, voice breaking. She glances up at her husband, finds him stunned and speechless, and she has to resist the urge to laugh at the thought that their daughter is every bit as talented at whacking Charming over the head as she is.

"No, I'm not done. You belong together, and I don't really believe in crap like that, but there is no other way to describe it, because I've seen it, I watch you, and it's real. I don't want to go all sentimental on you, because you both know me well enough to know that's not me, but you just... when it's real like that, you can't give up, you can't let it go. I don't know the details of what happened between the two of you tonight, and I don't need to know because it's none of my business. But as much as I can't believe I'm saying this, I have to say it - _screw_ Kathryn. Don't let her ruin what you guys have. You love each other, I know you do, so forget everything else, it doesn't matter. Be together, love each other, and let me sit back everyday and watch and be able to know that if my two best friends on the planet could have found each other, then maybe I can be... then I can have hope. Then I can believe in all the crap I've never believed in before. Because it does exist. It does happen. It happened to you two, my favourite people in the world. I've gotten to see it, I've gotten to watch it, and it's kind of really great."

"_Em_," Snow breathes again, choked up, wiping at tear-filled eyes.

"I'm sorry," Emma says, embarrassment creeping into her voice. "I know I've probably crossed the line. But you needed to hear it. I love you both. You're my family. And I've never really had one of those, and that's never been okay until now, because now, I've got one that I _chose_, and that's the most special thing that's ever happened to me."

Seeing how unsteady her husband looks, joy and pain at war on his face, Snow reaches out for him, lets him pull her into his embrace, letting both of them take the comfort they need from each other.

"So you just... you need to be together, okay?" Emma demands. "Because I love the two of you. And I need you both to be happy more than I've ever needed anything, and I think, I really think, that the only way you will ever be happy is if you're together. You need each other, and I need you, and we've got our weird little family that works better than anything I've ever seen before, and that's what makes me happy. So don't... don't mess it up. Or I swear, I will march the two of you right into one of these jail cells and lock you up until you fix everything. I can do that. Because I'm the sheriff and I said so."

Snow bursts out laughing, and she can feel Charming shaking with quiet laughter behind her, and it feels like the most extraordinary magic she has ever known.

"You don't have to worry Em," Charming finally says, voice rough but unbreaking. "Because you're right. We belong together. And I will never let anyone or anything tear us apart ever again. We're family, and I won't give that up for anything."

"We love each other, Emma," Snow confirms. "That's all that matters. We've worked it out. We love each other, and we love you; and us, and you and Henry, that's all we care about anymore."

Their daughter's exhale is audible.

"I'm really glad, you guys," she finally says.

"We are too," Snow murmurs. "Believe me Em, we are too."

"So, um... like I was saying to Mare, you both should head home to the apartment. And David? You should stay. Like, stay stay. Move in stay. Consider this my official permission."

"I'm not going anywhere," he promises.

Again, Emma's smile is obvious even through the phone.

"Good. That's really good. Um, I'm going to be home late, don't bother waiting up. I'll see you both in the morning."

"Good night, Emma," Snow says softly.

"Good night Mare, David."

"Good night," Charming says. "And Em?"

"Yeah?"

Charming smiles. "Love you too."

* * *

><p>Hanging up her phone just as she reaches the sheriff's station, Emma walks in, turns on the lights, and tosses her keys, phone and jacket onto her desk.<p>

She will be late home no matter how long it takes to check the old records, she decides. Very late home. Hours late home.

Because her best friends and roommates just promised their love for each other, and it was as reassuring as anything she'd ever heard. She could hear their love for each other in their voices even more than their words.

She'd heard something else in their voices too, though she wasn't entirely sure what it was. An increased certainty in both of them, perhaps? Something had changed between them tonight, it was obvious, and whatever it was, it reinforced her faith in them. They were in love, and they were together.

And it was enough to be pretty certain that she was going to need to let them have the apartment to themselves for awhile. There were some things that she just didn't want to walk in on.

But she's happy for them. So incredibly happy. Happier than she had ever imagined she could be for other people.

With no one else around, even the cells empty, she is entirely alone, so she considers herself completely safe to do something she has never once done in her entire life.

She squeals with joy.

* * *

><p>She manages to hang up the phone before the sob escapes.<p>

Charming holds her tighter.

"She's amazing," he tells her, and she can hear how much it costs him to keep his voice steady for her. "That's our daughter, Snow. She's got so much of us both in her that I kept losing my incredible woman we just talked to, she's everything we imagined, everything we could have dreamed of. And that's how I know we did the right thing, despite everything. We protected her. We kept her safe. And she grew up into someone extraordinary. I've had one conversation with her and I already know that. I'm so proud of her. I went into the curse loving our baby girl, and I've come out of the curse loving our baby girl, our beautiful, amazing Emma. Don't cry for what we've lost, my darling. Feel hope and joy for what we've gained."

"You're right," Snow sniffles, "I know you are. It's all just so overwhelming. We _talked_ to her, Charming."

"Yeah, we really did. And tomorrow morning, we'll see her. You'll give her a hug, I don't think she would object. I know we both want to be her parents, and we'll find a way to be that for her soon. But I think for now, it will be really good for us all, for us to be her friends."

"I just wish we could tell her the truth."

"I know," he sighs, before kissing her forehead. "Soon, my darling. I promise you, soon."

For a long time, they are quiet, just holding each other, taking comfort in the fact that they are there together, and their daughter is not far.

It's Charming who finally breaks the silence again.

"I owe them everything," he mutters.

She looks up at him. "Hmm?"

"Mary and David. They gave Emma a family. They gave her hope, and a home, and made her smile. They let her love and feel loved. And they - especially Mare - they gave you something to hold onto through the darkness of the curse. She steadied you, she grounded you, she connected you to this world. And even when we were trapped, they kept us connected to each other. And for that, for everything, I will never stop owing them."

"They took care of our daughter. We both owe them, forever, for that," Snow replies. She manages a half smile, painfully bittersweet, but looking up at him, her brows go heavy with confusion.

"What are you thinking, Charming?"

"Love, that kind of love, the way they love Emma and you... it doesn't just stop. They really loved each other, and they really loved you, and our daughter, and I suspect our grandson too. They'd made a life. They were something far beyond the curse's magic. And I know you already knew that, but my darling, they couldn't have just faded away. Something more than that happened to them. And we will figure it out. We will find them. We have to. Because they're your family, and they're Emma's family, and Snow, I want them to be mine too. I want to be able to thank them for all they've done."

As she stares at her husband, a radiant smile spreads across Snow's face. "You... you really think Abigail's wrong. You think we can find them?"

"I think they didn't just evaporate into thin air. They meant more than that. They were more than the curse. They had to have been. They _loved_. A creation of a curse couldn't have done that."

She laughs, delighted. "We'll find them."

He nods, kissing her quickly. "We will. But not tonight."

"No," she agrees, kissing back. "Not tonight. We'll go back to the apartment."

"Not quite yet," he murmurs, stopping her as she had turned to lead him towards Mary and Emma's home. "There's one last thing I don't want to bring home with us."

She looks him in the eye, challenging; suspecting what he was thinking but wanting to make him say it.

A fury that's not directed at her, but she recognizes easily anyway, flashes into his eyes. "The stranger?"

"I took care of it," she reassures. "I would never lie to you, especially about something like that. He had something with him, a cloth that smelled strange, I think he meant to use it as a weapon. I think he planned on kidnapping Mare. She ran, she ran for a long time, and I tried to help her, but she tired and could go on no longer. She wouldn't have been able to fight, not like I could, and that's when she let me out. I kicked his ass, Charming. I couldn't have told Emma that - it would have been too out of character for Mare - but I beat the crap out of him. He was fighting out of his league, and though I got a little scratched up, he really barely got a hand on me. I overpowered him relatively easily, and I was able to knock him out. It wasn't a problem, Charming, I promise you. I faced bigger challenges in the weakest fighters back in our land. He had no technique, no experience. It couldn't have been plainer that he'd never fought before."

A smirk began playing at his lips. "Tell me you didn't go easy on him."

"After what he tried to do to Mare? My _sister_? Hell no. I destroyed him. He'll be feeling it for days."

He chuckles. "Once again, that's my girl. You didn't recognize him?"

She shakes her head. "Not at all. Not even from our land. He was completely unfamiliar-" she freezes, shock widening her eyes.

"What is it my darling?" Charming demands.

"I'd never seen him before. But he knew who I was. He called me 'your highness'. And he was shocked. He'd expected me to be Mare, and he was stunned to find himself facing Snow White instead. Stunned, but aware. _He knew who I was_."

"I don't..."

"Charming," she whispers, staring at him, "I don't know who he is. I don't know what his motives are, I don't know whose side he's on. But he is from our world. And he's not cursed."

* * *

><p>There is, they'd decided, nothing they can do tonight.<p>

It worries them both that there's this unknown factor at play, especially one that's aware that Snow is out from under the curse's effects, but there's nothing they can do about it. Given the amount of time that had passed since Snow left him collapsed on the forest floor, it's likely he's already woken up and dragged himself back to wherever he came from; and even if he hadn't, there's no sense wandering around the pitch black woods on the off chance that they'll stumble upon him.

And on the bright side, Snow had declared, if he's an enemy worth being concerned about, at least they know he's down for the count for a couple of days, because there's _no way_ that she hadn't concussed him.

Charming'd had to laugh at that, delighted and proud, and with that, they'd decided to leave it at that for the night, and let themselves forget about it, forget about everything, until tomorrow.

A new day, they've often found, transforms much.

They make their way back to Mary's apartment, walking hand in hand all the while, and when they reach the building, she finds she needs to draw that comfort and strength from her husband as she unlocks the door.

"Just breathe," Charming murmurs, hand on her shoulder as they walk into the apartment together.

There's still a lamp left on in the corner. Mary's mail still sits on the table where she had left it, next to some leftover papers she'd been grading.

It's not just that her sister's presence is everywhere in this apartment. It's that the presence was so current. She'd only just left it a few hours earlier, with no idea that she would not be coming back.

Snow exhales, but the breath comes out staggered.

"This is surreal," she says to him with a whisper, hoping to keep her voice from breaking. "This is her home. I feel like I don't belong here without her."

"From what you've told me about Mare," he says carefully, "I think she would want you to be here. But if you want to go..."

"No. No, we need to be here. If we're going to pull this off, we need to be here. I just, I need to take a minute."

"Take all the time you need, my darling. I'm right here."

She leads him over to the couch, wanting to sit down, wanting him to hold her, though they both end up freezing in place before they manage to sit down, and they stare down at the couch together.

"So," Charming murmurs into her hair. "We have a dog?"

Amy is curled up on the couch, stretched out, claiming every inch of it as her own, seeming to have taken the empty apartment as an opportunity to break the strictest rule Mary and Emma had for her to the absolute fullest.

Snow actually manages to laugh. "A cat too, actually. Laci's probably upstairs on Emma's bed. And this is Amy. Who knows better than to be on the couch," she scolds just as Amy's eyes blink awake sleepily. "Come on, Ames. Off."

The labrador obeys the command, getting off the couch, though she looks between the two of them warily as if she can tell something's wrong with her masters, which she probably can.

"This could be a problem," Charming mutters as Amy watches them.

"Mmm," Snow hums her agreement. "She can tell we're not them. Animals are often more brilliant and intuitive than humans that way. Laci will probably be alright, she usually sticks close to Emma anyway, but Amy... she's Mare's and David's. She could get weird with us."

"Any chance you can explain to her?" Charming asks hopefully.

Having thought of it even before he did, Snow is already kneeling on the floor reaching out for the dog, murmuring indistinctly, too quiet and quick for him to pick anything out of it.

But Amy seems to understand, once she gets past the obvious bewilderment of a human communicating to her in a way she can comprehend.

After only a few minutes, Snow stands back up, glancing over her shoulder at him with a slight smile. "I can't get over how long it's been since I did that."

"Still got it though?" he teases.

"Yeah, I'll do," she replies, a ghost of her usual spunk making its way back to her. "I got through to her. I think she's a bit bewildered by it all, but that's understandable."

He chuckles. "_I'm_ bewildered about this all, so yeah, I think the dog's allowed to be too."

She smiles back at him, soft and loving, before turning back to Amy, murmuring something else indistinct under her breath.

Amy barks twice, then runs off, onto the staircase leading into Emma's room, and out of sight.

"Is she allowed upstairs?" Charming asked, surprised.

"Of course. As long as she doesn't go on the furniture, and sticks to her own beds, she's got the run of the place."

"Beds?"

Snow nods. "She's got her main one over there in the corner, but Emma also keeps like a doggy mattress upstairs for when Amy wants to hang out with her. The pets are spoiled around here. The mattress has even got memory foam."

"Do I even want to know what that is?"

She laughs, wrapping her arms around him. "Nah. It's better we save room in your brain for all the things that you actually need to know."

He smiles. "Like how you prefer to take your cocoa with cinnamon?"

She freezes, staring at him, before a lovely smile comes to her face. "You know that preference carried forward somehow? Mare always took her hot chocolate that way, and Emma and Henry do too."

He grins back, delighted with this new knowledge.

"And how you always used to wonder," he murmured, reaching a hand to stroke her bangs out of her eyes, "what you'd look like with short hair."

"Mare always had it in a pixie cut," she whispers, not trusting her voice not to have gone high pitched at a normal volume. "And with the curse, her hair never grew."

"Mmm," he hums. "And how do you feel about it?"

"I love it," she admits. "Every bit as much as I miss my long curls. Is it strange that I love both?"

"You look beautiful either way," he tells her, completely serious. "You shall always, always be beautiful to me."

She smiles, looks down.

"I know that your cheeks blush pink, you smile and look away whenever I say something like that, because you still don't know how to take a compliment, even after all these years," he teases.

She shakes her head at him, but the smile remains.

"I suspect these phone things fascinate you, given how impatient you always were for letters. Yes. I know that the ability to communicate immediately, across any distance, would delight you. I know that you love to wear white, because you prefer for the colours of the natural world, the beauty of it, to stand out more than you, the princess who no one could ever take their eyes off of. I know that you love to sing, though you only do it when you think you're alone. I know that you're a fierce fighter, deadliest with a bow and arrow in your hands. It's the most beautiful, sexiest thing I will ever see, the fire in your eyes after you've won a fight."

"Charming..." she breathes.

He looks down at her right hand. "I know that you fiddle with our ring when you're nervous. I know that it's your most prized possession, that you would fight wars for it, cross worlds for it. I know it was yours from the moment you first tried it on, in an attempt at cheeky fun that became so much more for both of us."

She follows his stare to her right hand, lifting it to make it easier for them both to see.

"It made it through," she murmurs amazed, having not noticed it through everything else she'd been dealing with. She raises her eyes to meet his stare, a radiant smile on her face. "Even through the curse. Through everything, after twenty-eight years, it's still with us somehow. Regina couldn't take that from us. There's some things she just couldn't break. Mare kept it safe for us."

"I know it's on the wrong hand now though," he says, reaching out for it, working it off the middle finger of her right hand. "Wrong finger too."

She bites her bottom lip, watching him, not taking her eyes off him. "Charming..."

"My mother once told me that true love follows this ring," he says, glancing at it between his fingers for only a second before staring back at her, unable to look away. "I didn't believe her then. I thought it was her way of letting herself hold onto hope for my happiness, a way of protecting herself, naive, but it was what she needed, so I accepted it." He laughs then, delighted. "And then you showed up to steal it right out from under me. It wasn't until much later that I realized you'd taken my heart too. So Mother was right all along, then. True love does follow this ring. And once it's there... it sticks with it too."

Snow exhales on a shaky breath.

"I know we need to play our parts," he says. "I know that Mare wore this ring on her right middle finger, and so you shall need to do the same. I'm alright with that. As long as the ring is with us, I'm alright with that."

She finds she can't swallow, can barely breathe at the look that comes into his eyes then, dark and intent.

"But for tonight," he says softly, voice gone rough. "Tonight, my darling, my beautiful Snow, I want it on your left ring finger. Tonight, I need my _wife_."

She nods, holding her left hand out for him, pleased at how it does not shake despite how unsteady she feels.

Unsteady, but certain.

"And I need my husband," she murmurs back, just as he slides their ring back where it belongs.

They say no vows, make no promises. It's not necessary to. This is not a wedding, but a re-claiming of the wife and husband who already are.

"I love you," he says, and it's all that he needs to.

"As I love you," she tells him. "Forever."

"Always."

* * *

><p>They've kissed thousands of times, in a hundred different ways throughout their time together.<p>

This one feels different.

They're claiming each other, she decides as she winds her arms around his neck, as he pulls her body in tighter to his own by his grip on her lower back. This is a possession of each other by kiss, desperate and passionate.

She wants closer to him than is humanly possible, and he seems to feel the same as he keeps pulling her closer, tighter. She wants to disappear in him, she thinks, as she begins pulling at his shirt, working at the buttons. She wants the two of them as one, so tied together, so connected, that it's impossible to know where one ends and the other begins.

They don't break the kiss, don't really separate to allow any space between them either, so getting his shirt off is a challenge, but working together, they manage it, sliding it off, dropping it on the floor.

She is delighted by this new expanse of skin revealed to her, skin she hasn't been able to touch and kiss and admire in far too long, but just as she goes to start in on just that, he pulls back, moving to work his lips over her neck and collar, forcing her to throw her head back and give him more room to work with.

"Please," she breathes, lifting her arms up at his encouragement, as he has started pulling at the hem of her top. He pulls it up off of her, tossing it somewhere behind him, uncaring of where it may land.

"What do you want?" he asks, demanding.

"You," she sighs, though it comes out half-sobbed, desperate as she is, knowing and accepting that she's reached the point of begging. "Please, Charming, I just want you."

She doesn't know how they reach the bed, for he's kissing her again, wild and open-mouthed, and somehow even more desperate than before, and that's all that matters, him, him kissing her, invading her senses, making it impossible to think or breathe, just feel.

She falls back against the bed, and he follows her down, unwilling to allow any space in between them. She loves it, the feel of it, his weight on top of her. She never wants anything else.

They yank and pull at each other's remaining clothing, and vaguely, she's sure she hears something rip, multiple somethings, and she's pretty positive her underwear get destroyed. It doesn't matter, she decides, nothing matters except getting closer to him, stripped open and bare.

They don't tease. Normally they would. Back in their land, their world, they'd take joy in teasing and torturing each other, seeing who would break first. (She was very proud of how often it was him). But this time, no, this time need wins out over want, twenty-eight years and a curse apart having driven them near insanity.

"Say it again," he demands, as he drags his lips over every inch of her body. She recognizes easily his desire to make sure she's ready, loves him just a little bit more for it. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," she pants as she slides her nails down his back, thrilling in his responding groan.

"Tell me you need me," he orders, as he works his way back up her body.

"I need you," she breathes.

"And now," he murmurs, lips hovering just above her own, "tell me you love me."

"I love you," she promises.

They both cry out together as he buries himself inside her.

For a moment, neither of them moves, they simply stare at each other, reveling in the feel of it, connected to each other in every way for the first time in so long.

His eyes are dark, desperate, and hungry, and she knows he's just barely keeping hold of his own sense of control, and she delights in it, the knowledge that she can do this to him, and the smile that spreads across her face is radiant, spurring his own grin, sharp around the edges.

"I love you too, my darling," he declares.

She wraps her arms around his neck, bucks up into him, revels in his responding groan. She lifts her head just slightly off the pillow, moving her lips to his ear.

"Husband," she whispers, before pulling back, letting her own smile go dangerous and coy to match his own.

"Wife," he murmurs back, just slightly questioning, not sure what she's up to.

"Take me," she orders. "_Now_."

He lets his control go.

They are not gentle.

They love.

And together, they fly.

* * *

><p>They lie together, hours later, still wrapped in each other, where they've always belonged. One of them had gotten up at some point, to pull the curtains shut around the bed, allowing themselves a modicum of privacy for when Emma gets home at some point.<p>

It occurs to Snow that the clothes scattered around the apartment kind of defeat that purpose, but she can't find it in herself to care, and she definitely has no interest in leaving Charming's arms to gather everything.

It's too warm, here in Charming's embrace. Too safe. Too much of everything she'd wanted, for far too long, to be willing to leave it, any time soon.

She is lying half on top of him, her head on her chest, his arms around her, tracing random patterns on her bare back. In response, she had done the same, stroking her left hand - their ring still shining from her second finger - up and down his chest, until she'd met one of his scars, and started taking the opportunity to examine them all, saving the one on his side, the mark of his worst wound, for last.

He says nothing, just watches her, provides quiet comfort, waits for her to feel ready to speak.

"You were dying," she finally says quietly, not a question, but a simple statement of the truth.

He nods.

"This wound would have been fatal," she continues as she touches it, so gentle, "and you would have died in my arms. The curse was what saved you. Ironic, isn't it? In sending us to this new world, new life meant to keep us apart, that magic kept you alive."

"It did," he finally agrees. "I'm right here with you, Snow. I'm alive, I'm safe. And we're together."

She smiles, quick and easy, a reassurance that yes, she knows that. Knows that this is no dream, much as it might have felt like one, a perfect little dream.

"I know," she murmurs. "I know you are here with me, this little miracle that I've been granted. But I wonder if she knows."

He shakes his head. "You know she isn't aware we're out from the curse."

She half smiles, gives him a kiss, a reward for his constant determination to reassure and protect her from all that could hurt. "You misunderstand, that's not what I meant. I mean... she cast this curse, this horrible, dark magic, for revenge on me..."

"Revenge on _us_," he interrupts, not wanting her to take all the blame upon herself.

"No, revenge on me," Snow sighs. "The only thing she ever wanted you to pay for was loving _me_, making _me _happy, waking_ me _up from the revenge that should have lasted eternity. It was always all about me. Everything she's done for so many years has been about nothing but destroying me. And I wonder if she knows that she already had that, and let it go."

He raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Emma was gone," Snow says, almost more to herself than to him. "We'd gotten the baby in the wardrobe. She was gone. You were near dead, bleeding to death in my arms. And she walked in, and she didn't think twice. The curse was almost there, and she didn't even stop. She was delighted by its coming, this world without happy endings. And, you know, I doubt she could have stopped the curse at that point. It was probably too far gone. I know she didn't want to. But she should have, really. That would have been it. It would have been over. If she'd somehow stopped the curse then and there, and left, Emma would have been gone, lost to me forever in another world, and you would have died, with no magic to save you. And I would have been left with nothing. Regina would have won. I would have been destroyed."

"Instead, we're here. I'm in your arms, having just made love to you. My engagement ring is on the right finger, we call each other husband and wife. You're alive, you're safe, you're whole. And our daughter, our daughter is here, in this world with us, working away at her job, but soon she'll come home, and we'll be under one roof together. We'll be home together, the three of us, safe and happy. She hasn't won at all. She would have, back then. It wouldn't have been her big master plan, but it would have been done anyway. I would have been destroyed, lost without you and our daughter, broken into a million pieces, impossible to put back together. Instead I am here. Instead, I am whole." she lets herself laugh, once, a delighted, bubbly sound.

"And I wonder if she knows that, if she has realized that now, how badly she got it wrong."

He stares at her wide-eyed.

A smug smile works its way onto her face as she meets his stare, a dangerous look flashing in her eyes, the same look that he'd told her hours earlier that he found to be the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

It is the look of a woman who knows she's won.

"It kind of makes you wonder what else she's mis-calculated on," Snow grins, triumph written all over her face. "Doesn't it?"

She barely has a second to recognize the near feral smile that's spread across his face, before he's kissing her, pulling her into him, pressing her into the sheets, rolling on top of her.

Again.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: It seems I will forever be apologizing for long waits for chapters. I hope that this one was worth it. This monster of a chapter just never wanted to end, and now I find myself very proud of it. I just hope you all enjoyed. <strong>_

_**It's a transition chapter in every sense of the phrase, meant to help me get this story from one part to the next. There will be at least one or two more transition chapters, before I get right back into the thick of the story I'm trying to tell. **_

_**A lot of you will find this funny, but I kind of forgot all about the necessity of this chapter. I'd focused for so long on getting Snow and Charming out, and I have so many plans for what is going to happen to the two of them after, that I kind of forgot all about the fact that I'd somehow have to write a reunion for the two of them in between. I hope I did it justice. **_

_**My most loyal readers, the ones who've been with me for ages, I know you've been waiting for a CERTAIN part of this story from me for a long time. I hope you were happy with it. All I can say is that if I was going to go there, I needed to do it in Freedom Love first (instead of one of the drabbles I could have done it then), and I needed to do it for Snow and Charming, rather than Mary and David. **_

_**I can be found on icingsfanfic on both twitter and tumblr, where I give away all my little secrets. Or some of them, anyway. Love always to my followers on both - you incredibly patient people you - thank you for the smiles, and for cheering me on when I need it. **_

_**Thanks, as always, for reading. **_


	21. War Plans

**Chapter Twenty: War Plans **

Snow wakes with a start, unused to her body being hers to wake with. Finding herself bare under the covers, she feels vulnerable, unsure, at risk. Her limbs thrash out, immediately getting tangled in sheets so much softer, silkier, than anything she has ever felt before, which increases her panic.

She does not know where she is.

She flails out at nothing, at empty air, and with nothing to grab onto, she feels herself start to fall, a frightened cry escaping her lips in a quick exhale, for not knowing where she is falling from or how high, she cannot prepare herself for the landing.

It never comes.

"Hey, hey, hey," he says softly, cradling her against his chest - bare too, she cannot help but sense - holding her close after catching her. "You're alright, I've got you. Open your eyes, Snow."

And yes, she knows him; knows his warmth, knows his voice. His soul, and his heart, and his love, she knows all of them better than she knows herself, and so yes, she is okay. It doesn't matter where she is, not really, for she is safe regardless.

Charming is here.

And so she is home.

It's easy to get her bearings back with that certainty established, and the crippling disorientation vanishes as if it had never happened, as the memories organize themselves in her brain.

David/Mary. Devastation, turned to courage, turned to strength. But the stranger, attacking. Terror. Run, scream, fight. Mare gone. _Mare gone_. Kathryn, no, Abigail. How could it be Abigail? Of all the sanctimonious, selfish cruelty. Regrettable catfight. (She'd have done much worse if she'd had any kind of energy left to her at the time). Rumplestilskin. David. Something's wrong, David's hurt, David, David, David... Charming. _Charming Charming Charming_. Charming, right there, right in front of her, in her arms. Charming holding her through the confrontation with Abigail, Charming holding her through the phone call with Emma. _Emma_. Emma's love. Going back to Mare's apartment. Charming. Oh, oh, Charming. There's nothing else, when it's him, touching her like that. The world around him disappears, narrowing to him, only him, and everything he can make her feel. It's both too much and not nearly enough.

And it's real. It's all real.

After twenty-eight years, Charming's got her now.

She's smiling even before she opens her eyes, and even still, his steady, piercing gaze is the first thing she sees when she does, eyes immediately meeting his.

Sleep fogged mind cleared by her husband's touch, and now sensical again, she knows exactly where they are, in Mare's apartment, where of course they (eventually) fell asleep together last night. She has full recollection of everything that happened the day before, felt with both wondrous joy and pained horror.

There's still so much she and Charming have to discuss, but this is her first morning in over twenty-eight years waking up as Snow and Charming, and the first thing she says to him now needs to be the thing she knows to be her most basic truth.

"I love you."

She knows it doesn't need saying, won't ever _need _saying, but there is so much joy to be found in simply saying the words anyway, and from the brief surprise that fades away to warm pleasure in Charming's eyes, she suspects he will always agree. And at this, the easy delight in his eyes, the affection, and yes that wonderful warmth that only his (and now Emma's) blue eyes have ever held, she has to kiss him. Just quickly, a featherlight touch of her lips to his, because there will be time for more kisses, longer kisses, more fevered, desperate, passionate kisses later.

They have all the time in the world now.

"Mmm," Charming manages, the satisfied half-smirk, half-smile she easily recognizes as the precursor to his teasing her spreading across his face, "if that's the thanks I get for catching you, I'm going to have to ask you to fall more often."

It feels good to let herself laugh, burying her face against his neck and - you know, while she's there - pressing her lips to his bare skin, a kiss each to his neck and his shoulder, and then his other shoulder just to be fair. "Anytime," she murmurs, before moving on to his chest.

Snow feels it more than hears it when he releases a content little sigh, and shuffling her in his arms, Charming sits back down on the bed, scooting his body back and reclining against the pillows. He seems disinclined to let her go anytime soon, and so she snuggles in closer. (It's a sacrifice she's willing to make).

She waits, once she recognizes that Charming has gotten them settled to his satisfaction. She knows him, inside and out, and so too does she know what's coming.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" he asks, calmly, but he is holding her so tightly to him that she can get a sense of his posture, too tense for him to truly pull off the casual that he's going for. "Even when you were having nightmares, you've never woken up in that much of a panic in all the time I've known you."

Snow nods, conceding the point. The nightmare that was the fire room had only come with the deepest sleeps that she never stirred in; the bad dreams that came after Regina's threats were always paralyzing. Either way, she would always emerge from the dream-plagued sleep slowly, as if she were still caught in the grip of the dream even as she woke; even when fully conscious she would often find herself feeling as though she had been sleeping for far longer than she actually had been.

So yes, waking up and immediately going into a desperate panic that had her fall from bed would be new to Charming. It's new to her too. She'd never done it, not even as a child.

But here everything is new, different, and wildly unfamiliar.

And Charming will understand that.

"I didn't know where I was," she admits, bending to place a kiss on the arm Charming has wrapped around her mid-section. "The bed felt unfamiliar, the light was coming from the wrong place, I was alone in bed, and I'm so used to waking up to you holding me... I wasn't fully conscious yet, I didn't remember everything right away, and to wake like that, with everything so strange..."

Charming tilts his head, understanding flaring in his eyes. "We're not in the castle."

"I was frightened," Snow agrees. "It was the first time I'd woken up as _me_ in so many years, and nothing was as it should have been. Did you not find it disconcerting?"

He shifts, kissing the top of her head. "To an extent, I suppose. But I woke up with you in my arms. As far as I was concerned, everything was exactly as it should be."

She is quite certain, as she beams up at him, that even someone who did not know her at all would be able to see her love for the man holding her, written all over her face in this moment. (As it usually is).

"I meant for you to wake up much the same way as I did," he murmurs, touching her face gently. "With me holding you. I'm sorry you didn't, that's my fault. I'd only left for a minute to gather our clothes, and while I was up, I just wanted to make sure Emma got home..."

"Did you see her?" Snow asks, eagerly unable to help but interrupt to ask.

Charming shakes his head fondly. "She is home, but she's a burrower when she sleeps. She had the covers so high up on her, I could only see the top of her head." He flashes a grin at her then, quick and teasing and just the slightest bit cocky; still so much the man he'd been when she'd first met him. "Most beautiful top of a head I ever saw."

She giggles. "Of course. That's our top of a head."

"We made that top of a head," he teases with a quick wink. "And so much hard work went into it."

Laughing still, she can't help but play right back. "And you enjoyed every minute of it."

He snorts. "She'd be mortified if she knew what we were talking about right now."

Immediately sobered, Snow nods and cuddles herself in tighter to her husband. "We'll be able to tell her, someday, that she's ours, right? I can't... I can't stand her not knowing. How loved she was from the beginning, how much we wanted her. It kills me that she doesn't know, Charming."

It had always struck her, how well he knew her, how he always knew exactly what she needed; even after all this time, that much hasn't changed, as he reaches to cup her face in his hand.

"Oh my darling, yes," he murmurs, so gentle. "I _promise_ you. Our daughter will know everything. She'll know how much her parents love her."

Turning her head to press a kiss to his palm, she blinks the tears away, fighting the urge to let them fall. She knows he would understand, knows he will always understand because that's who he is, but she simply does not want to cry anymore.

"Will she?" she asks, unable to hide the bitterness from her voice, and she can see the confusion and surprise on her husband's face and knows she needs to explain more.

"I didn't want to fall asleep last night," she admits. "I didn't know what it would be like when I woke up. It felt too good to be real, being all wrapped up in you, with you. Knowing that Emma would be home soon and we'd all be together in the morning. I would wake up with you. Maybe I'd make breakfast. And everything would be almost as it was supposed to be, and that was the best I could hope for. But Charming, it felt too perfect. _I_ felt too happy. How could it be true, when our happiness has always been so fleeting, always so close to vanishing into thin air, dust in the wind? _Moments_, Charming. All we've ever gotten are little moments of joy, before it's taken away, before the next horror starts. How long will this moment last? How long can I truly expect to have, with you, with Emma? What kind of future will we have, when I'm afraid to fall asleep and I'm frightened when I wake up because I keep waiting for it all to come crashing down?"

"We go on hope," Charming says softly, after a long moment of silence in which she could see him struggling to put words together. "Just the way we always have. Oh my love, my darling Snow, you know as well as I do that good always wins eventually. There's no... there's no winning in evil or hate. But in joy, in love, in _family_? We're already more blessed than Regina can ever understand. She won't win. She doesn't have anything to fight for. We do. That's how we keep going. We don't wait for the sky to fall, Snow. We wait for the time when it doesn't."

He always was the one who believed. It was part of who he was, ever the optimist, the one to go on faith and trust in goodness and happy endings. And she needed that in her life, needed it from him. She'd been but a girl still when she'd first lost that belief innate from childhood that everything would always be alright. But Charming, he'd never lost his, even after all he had suffered too. She marveled at it often, wondering if Charming knew how truly amazing he was, how rare, that after everything he and they had been through, he still believed.

It made her want to believe too.

She knew how dark and unfair and evil the world could be. But a person like Charming was still possible anyway.

How could true love not win out, in a world where someone like Charming could exist?

"I look at you sometimes, and I think that you're everything," she murmurs, staring up at him. "You're all light, all love, all goodness. You're the very best person I've ever known, Charming. And any time I've been able to take a leap of faith, it's been because I believed in _you_, not anything or anyone else. You're my hope. You make it possible to believe in things I'd thought I lost with my mother. But Charming, I just finished spending twenty-eight years without you."

"And now we're here," he points out with a sad smile. "Twenty-eight years and I'm holding you now. Don't lose sight of that, my darling. If I'm what you believe in, then believe this: I've got you now, and I'm not letting you go."

Love so strong, so fierce, it hurts, Snow thinks faintly. So much, it overwhelms her often, as it has in this moment.

It's power in itself, true love, and that's something to believe in too. Something more than just him; something that's hers too.

And it's enough.

He's always been the one to make her believe, to make her even want to believe at all.

She owes it to him to start believing for herself.

"I _love_ you," she says fervently, needing him to know it, and as always wishing there were stronger words to say it with. "So much. And that's what matters. That's what I need to believe in, to not let go of, ever. You and me, here and now and always. No more finding each other, Charming. Finding each other means we lost each other in the first place, and I'm tired of it. No more. We don't let go. We take our happy ending for ourselves. I _won't_ lose you again."

Charming is grinning at her by the time she's through.

"There's my girl," he breathes, just a slight edge in his voice that immediately quickens her heartbeat. (She knows that edge well; has fallen off it, cut herself on it more times than she would ever be able to count). "I'll be the optimist. I'll go on blind faith if you need that of me. You just be the spirit, the fighter. That's what I need of you. I need to not to give up."

"Never," she promises, breathlessly, already reaching for him, _needing _to touch him, needing closer, she pulls him to her as he does the same. "I just get scared sometimes, I'll have doubts, but as long as I have you, I'll never give up, never, I just need you..."

He collides into her, sending the two of them crashing to the bed the same way they have so many times before, and the way they will do again - over and over and over again. It's always been this way between them, she thinks vaguely. It's just who they are together, all passion and heat and constant need for _closer_.

"You've got me," Charming damn near growls, and _oh _does that still do something for her. "You've got me so entirely I can barely handle it..."

The thing about him like this, is it's always, always brought out her playful side; desire so strong it brings out an almost primal need not just to have him, but to tease him along the way.

"It's alright, Charming," she murmurs, lightly grazing her teeth over the edge of his jaw, before pulling back so he can see her fully, grinning at him, pulling her own bottom lip in to bite teasingly just as she loosely wraps a hand around him hard and waiting for her. "I can handle you for you."

It is with rather a lot of satisfaction, that Snow White watches her husband's eyes roll back just slightly.

"How much... how long... Gods damn it, Snow," he breathes roughly.

"Sorry, didn't catch that," she admonishes playfully, letting her tongue flick out just slightly. "In English, Charming?"

Oh, she knows she'd be cursing if he were teasing her like this, but hell, there's a certain dark joy she's long taken in being the maddening one.

Then again, he's never been one to sit back and take it, and she cannot help but shriek joyfully when his expression turns from utter frustration to mischief in a second, and she knows he's going to flip them before he does.

"Torture artist," he scolds, nipping at every reachable inch of her skin now that he's got her trapped underneath him. "When do we need to be out of bed?"

Turnabout is fair play, she knows, but asking her to think clearly when he's got his mouth and hands on her breasts seems like cruel and unusual punishment.

"What?" she gasps, already having forgotten the question.

The vibration of his laugh against her, that's just unfair.

"Do pay attention, darling," he says, voice rougher still than it was just moments ago. He's baiting her, she knows he is, but hell if he thinks she's not going to rise up to the moment.

"My focus is impeccable, thank you," she corrects, managing to rearrange her features into a grin, tongue in cheek all the way. "And exactly where it should be."

"Yeah?" he questions, pulling back from her to mock-glare down at her, plainly challenging. "And where might that be?"

For a long moment, Snow simply stares up at him, while he smirks back down at her, eyebrow raised; battle flags drawn, neither wanting to be the one to give in.

But damn it, she _wants_ him. And she knows he wants her. And this game they're suddenly playing seems wholly unnecessary in the face of those facts.

The good news is, Charming has always thought much the same way she does - beneficial in council meetings and in bed both - and he's grinning at her just as she beams up at him, ceasefire unspokenly agreed to. It's as if they've both heard some invisible, inaudible starter's gun to begin the race, for they both lunge for each other once more at the exact same moment; embracing tightly, kissing desperately.

"You," she pants against him once he's moved on from her mouth to her neck, leaving her with room to breathe shallowly. It's considerably delayed, but she's finally answering his question. "You, this, all of it. The way you make me feel. I can't think of anything else when you're touching me."

"Good answer," Charming praises, with considerable male pride in his voice. "And so we'll go back to my original question, my darling. How much longer do I have to touch you? What time do we need to be out of bed?"

"Ah!" she cries out, gasping as he punctuates his question by slipping a solitary finger inside of her.

"Come on, my darling. Just need one small moment of your focus. Do we have time for... two? Or even three?" he asks, counting with his fingers in the most unfairly torturous way she can imagine.

"6:30!" she finally manages, damn near sobbing it. "Mare's clock is set with an alarm for 6:30."

"Good," he encourages, bending. She shakes wildly out of mere anticipation, watching him with huge eyes. "Now, what time is it now?"

It seems utterly unfair to her that he's asking her to be functional for even the shortest moment when he's doing what he's doing to her, but she manages to pull herself together long enough to glance over at the clock.

"It's... quarter to five," she says, more than slightly strangled.

The grin he flashes her is dangerous, satisfied, and oh so tempting.

"Oh," he drawls. "I think we can work with that."

* * *

><p>"Hey," Charming asks softly after, holding her closely to him. "Are you really okay?"<p>

Snow is quiet for a long while, pondering the question and her response to it. Right this minute, hell yeah she's alright; she and her husband having left themselves over twenty-five minutes to spare for cuddle time after some rather energetic sex. She's always enjoyed these moments most, when they're able to simply hold each other. It's peaceful and quiet and she can feel their love so strongly that it's a wonder that she's even capable of feeling anything else besides her connection with her husband.

But overall, after everything that has happened even in just the last twenty-four hours, how is she doing?

"I'm overwhelmed," she admits. "Much as I imagine you must be."

He nods his agreement, but says nothing, encouraging her to continue without words.

"It's surreal right now," she says softly. "I can't wrap my head around any of it; all that has happened, all that I'm feeling. Charming, I'm actually _in_ your arms right now. I'd say you can't imagine how incredible that feels, but you're the only person in the world who would understand."

"Perhaps," Charming agrees. "But then again, I wasn't aware, when I was trapped in David. For me, it's as if I've been asleep for twenty-eight years, and woke up with you with me, the way we were always meant to be. I had no awareness of the world around me, of time passing. You did. In many respects I imagine it was so much harder for you than me. You don't have to hide that from me, Snow."

She sighs heavily. He's right, as usual. They can tell each other anything, and they always do. There's always the instinct to protect her love from anything that would hurt him, yes, but the certainty that to lie to him or hide things from him would be far worse is bone deep. They don't keep secrets from each other. Ever.

"I was nothing," she mumbles, swallowing through the sudden lump in her throat. "And I knew it. I felt it, the whole time. I was always there, always aware, but unable to do _anything_. Twenty-eight years of darkness and I felt every second of it. I was suffocating. It was so much like the sleeping curse that I couldn't breathe through it. If I could have just slept, if I could have floated away into oblivion, that would have been one thing, but no. I was there. I was aware, but I didn't exist; caught between worlds, less than a ghost. Real, but not there. Not anywhere. I was nothing, but I still was. Twenty-eight years of feeling my own losses and my own uselessness; wondering what had happened to you, to our daughter and unable to do a damn thing about it. It was... panic like I've never felt, Charming. But I couldn't _do_ anything. I couldn't scream, I couldn't fight, I couldn't do anything to end the agony. I was nothing."

Agony has flashed into his eyes, and she can both see and feel his tension in the way he holds her, but still he listens, gaze intent on hers.

He wants to know, she reminds herself. Even when it hurts.

"But then," she continues, and the smile comes to her face so quickly she knows it startles him. "_Emma_. And you. You were both here so suddenly, right there within reach. I knew where you were, and it made me stronger. It gave me presence. And I could suddenly make Mare really feel me. Not just an impression or sense of me, but _me._ The more she was around Emma and David, the more myself I felt, and the more I could get through to Mare. I wasn't useless anymore. I wasn't nothing. I was still trapped, but I knew I was near you, and that was enough. I had purpose again. I felt like I could breathe again. I wasn't caught up in a three decade long panic attack anymore. I knew my family was near, and as safe as they were going to get. That knowledge - your nearness - kept making me stronger. Making me more real, to me, and to Mare. The closer she got to them, the more I became to her. Love got me through."

Charming smiles at her softly. "That's something, my darling. I'm glad I was able to help in some small way."

"Way more than something. It was good," she corrects. "It was so, so good. I'd needed it so badly. You, Em... but oh Gods, Charming, I so badly underestimated how much I would need Mary. How much it mattered that I could finally talk to someone. Talking to her, it was like... an affirmation of my existence; reassuring myself that I was real. Almost thirty years alone in the dark, it got easy to doubt my own reality. But when Emma and David came into Mare's life, she felt so strongly for both of them - especially David - so immediately it frightened her. That was me, my longing for you and our daughter coming through. And Mare needed to know why. She needed an explanation for why she felt so unbelievably drawn to two people she really didn't know. At first to her, I was absurd, impossible, but I made things make sense anyway. She needed that. I owed her that. And when I was able to provide that to her, she opened her mind to me. But with Mare, her mind and her heart and soul, it's all one and the same. She cares and loves so absolutely. When she allowed herself to believe in me, it confirmed my reality, but it also made me matter to her. We got so close, Charming. She became my friend, my sister, my confidant. We came to depend on each other, trust each other. She was my link to _life_, and in the end, that was what brought me back _to_ life, to this moment. I owe her everything, and I can't even tell her."

"She knew anyway," Charming says gently. "I may not know Mary, but I know you. You love her, and you are not shy or quiet in your love. You love intensely, fiercely, and forcefully; trust me, my darling, there's no misunderstanding that. She knew."

Staring up at her husband with huge shining eyes, Snow manages to smile at him. It means a lot, she thinks, the way he always knows the right thing to say.

"I woke up this morning, and for just a minute, I forgot. I forgot everything that happened last night. That's why I panicked. Because I hadn't truly woken up in twenty-eight years. Not like that, anyway. When I was just a presence in Mary's head, sure I rested, I would be unaware, unconscious, whatever, but can you really call it sleep when your body isn't yours? I didn't sleep and so I couldn't wake. I just floated between states of consciousness, never really complete, because how could I be? I existed only to Mare and myself, and only that for the last few months. No more. And when I woke up this morning, I'd forgotten that I could and would wake up. For that tiny moment, it was just going to be another day. I'd be nothing again."

"You were never nothing, Snow," Charming argues, a slight edge to his tone letting her know just how much he means it. "I know you felt like it and I don't ever want to belittle your feelings, but please, my darling, know that it's not true. You and I pulled Mary and David together. A longing, a connection that strong, that desperate, between two total strangers? You know that was us, you said so yourself. 'Nothing' doesn't bring people together like that. You called to me even when I wasn't there. Don't underestimate how powerful that is. You could never be 'nothing'. You weren't."

"I was... a parasite..."

"No!"

"No, Charming, I was. To Mare, I was, even if she would never admit it. An extra presence in her head? I didn't belong there. And now I feel like I've cheated her, robbed her of her life..."

"If you think you did that to Mare," Charming starts, voice low in the way that tells her he's struggling hard to keep it in check, "then I did the same to David. Will you accuse me of the same crime?"

"Charming, no, you don't..."

"_You_ don't," he interrupts. "I was so intent on getting to you that I ignored everything else, including what I must have been doing to David in my fight to get out. I caused him pain. You think I don't regret that? I didn't know David, not like you got the chance to know Mary; but he's a good man, I could tell that much. And still, I fought like he was one more obstacle in my path to you that I needed to obliterate. You? You went tearing through the woods to try and figure out what happened to Mary. You fought for her. And then when you'd gotten away safe, you tried to handover back to her. You tried like hell to hold on. _She_ let go. To save you, she let go, and Snow, I think it's a disservice to what she intentionally did for you to even think of it as you robbing her. She let go, and David knew that, and so he did too. He let go to go after her. There is no bad guy here Snow, but if you need there to be one, that's me, not you."

She shakes her head. "Never," she whispers.

He cups her face in his hand. "Then my darling Snow, no one is at fault. Not for this. We're together. They're together. And we'll figure out what happened to them. And everything will be alright."

"It's just too much to feel all at once," Snow admits. "To feel such unbelievable joy to actually be here with you now; but at the same time I can't help but feel guilty to be so happy, because my friends are gone, and I feel such profound sadness about that that it almost hurts to breathe. It's overwhelming, and contradictory, and I don't know what to do with any of it. I'm overjoyed one minute and heartbroken the next, and I don't know how to feel both things at once. I _miss _them, Mare especially. When you live for so long sharing a mind, a body... it was only our souls that were separate. And oh Gods, Charming, it feels like I'm missing half myself to be without her now."

"Of course you do. She's part of you. Even when we do find her again - and we will - part of you will still always mourn the loss of being so intricately linked to her."

Snow nods. "It feels so strange to be alone in my own head with my thoughts. I keep waiting for Mare to say something, to, I don't know, tease me about how I can't keep my hands off you. She would have, if she were here. Near the end, I tended to think of you... rather a lot. She couldn't help but notice."

It doesn't quite reach his eyes the way it usually does, but the half-smirk she's always loved works its way on his face. "Really?" he asks, rolling the r.

She knows he does it to make her smile, and he succeeds in that much. "Cocky," she teases with a grin, then sobers once more. "You see what I mean? I'm just all over the place right now. Happy - _so_ happy, Charming, I promise - to be here with you, and then next second, I remember that I don't know what happened to my sister, and it hurts, and it feels wrong to let myself have the joy that I can't help."

"She'd want you to have the joy," Charming points out. "If she loves you as much as you clearly love her - and I know she does - she'd want you to let yourself feel joy. It's only natural that you would feel all of this, Snow. And I think you need to let yourself feel it. Whatever it is, even if it turns on a dime, you need to let yourself feel. I know it's overwhelming. But I'll be here with you the whole time, always. If you need to yell, scream, you do that. Cry, do that too. If you need me to make you laugh; if you need me to just quietly hold you, remind you that you're not alone here when your head gets too quiet, I'll do all of it, anything for you. I'm here. I've got you. And it's okay to be happy about that, even when you're sad."

And again, Snow thinks vaguely. Always with the infinite capacity to love him more. It will never stop stunning her, or delighting her for it.

When she smiles at him, it's solid and real and just a little sly. "And for when I just want you to touch me, and kiss me, and make love to me?"

He grins back at her. "I suppose I could suffer through. Just for you."

She laughs, wild and open. It feels cathartic.

"I _love_ you," she says fervently.

"I know," he replies cheekily, making her laugh again. "But it's always good to hear. I love you too, my darling," he murmurs, just as the alarm goes off.

She exhales. He looks at her carefully, plainly sizing her up.

"You ready for this?" he asks.

She nods, finally pulling herself out of his arms. "You're here. As long as you're with me, I'm ready for anything."

"Good. I got your back."

"And you know I've got yours," she says softly. "Always."

* * *

><p>It's reassuring, Snow decides, the way they both settle into what could easily be an everyday morning routine. Charming had clearly taken her advice of the previous night to heart, as he seems to not be thinking too much about what he's doing, and just doing it. She doesn't know if it's his body's muscle memory, or if he'd been semi conscious of more of David's life than he'd thought, but he seems comfortable and at ease in this modern world entirely new to him.<p>

She mentions this to him teasingly as they putter around the tiny kitchen getting breakfast and coffee and packed lunches together.

Charming laughs. "I have zero idea what I'm doing right now. I'm just doing it, like you said, and it seems to be working. Interesting place, this is. If you don't think too much about it, food prep's certainly easier."

"And if you do think too much about it?" she asks teasingly.

"I'd be staring at your - you called it a toaster? - all morning, I fear. Best to just go with it, I think. It's so very strange though, to find myself doing things that I have no working knowledge of. I had the coffee machine on and brewing before I even realized I was doing it, and then there's that very disconcerting moment of 'wait, what is this and what did I just do with it?'. It's confusing."

"I know," she says softly, kissing him quickly. "You're doing great."

Charming's answering smile is easy and reassuring, and he sneaks another kiss. "Think I can pull this off?"

"I know you can," Snow corrects immediately. "And you need to know it too."

He nods. "I do, Snow. I don't understand it, but I understand him. Something about him... he made sense to me. I can do this for him. I owe it to him. He let go, so I could be with you, with only the request that I take care of you, that I keep you safe. Now you and I both know that I would protect you with my life, but he had only a few moments before he was gone, and that was what he asked of me. There was a goodness to David such that I've rarely seen in anyone, and I'm going to do this for him, and for Mary, and most of all for you. To keep our secret, to keep us safe, I will be David."

Snow's eyes shine, trusting and faithful and so loving always that he's pretty sure they'll never stop making his breath catch.

"Good," she says softly, and after all that they've needed to discuss since they suddenly found themselves together again after nearly three decades, there's no more that needs to be said beyond that one word.

They've got this, Charming decides, reveling in the little smile that plays at his wife's lips. It's insane and it's dangerous, but they've got each other for it, and this time they are going to win, for he refuses to lose anymore.

They've lost too much already, a thought which is all the more confirmed when they are both startled by the noise of someone pounding down the creaky old staircase, and stumbling into the kitchen.

She's sleepy and bleary eyed; curls so like her mother's knotted up from sleep, and she glances up at him with a content smile, and he tries to remember to keep breathing, and forgets entirely when she goes barreling into Snow's arms, unknowingly wrapping her mother up into a bear hug. "Don't ever do that again," she mumbles into Snow's shoulder, barely audible but he still hears somehow, loud and clear.

Snow looks overwhelmed, eyes wide and huge, but she reacts immediately, returning the hug, and she's holding their daughter, right there in front of him. "I won't," Snow promises, voice paradoxically both shaky and strong. "I'm right here, Em."

She's right there.

They're _both_ right there. He can see them, and it's all he can think about.

Twenty-eight years. He'd let her go, let them both go; telling her to find them before falling, certain through the haze of pain that he was dying, dying with the knowledge that saving his newborn daughter would be the last thing he'd ever do.

It wasn't.

She found them. She doesn't know it, but she found them, and he's looking right at her, here and now.

She pulls out of the hug first with a sheepish laugh, husky and warm, and they both turn to look at him, grins on their faces and tears in their eyes, and oh, oh, oh, do they ever look alike, and it just gets him, hard and painful and so damn right.

Twenty-eight years and beautifully found.

* * *

><p>Charming, she decides, is doing an absolutely wonderful job of holding it together.<p>

He'd seemed stricken for a few moments, just there in his eyes; pain and loss and regret and joy and love, so much love. But he'd pulled it together by the time Emma turned to look at him, and all that could be seen on his face at that point was sheer affection, which was not at all out of place for David Nolan.

"Morning, Em," he said with a mix of cheer and sheepishness that is somehow exactly as she knows David would have said it, and she feels her hope increase.

They were both right, earlier. He does have this. Now she needs to too.

"What time did you manage to make it back?" she asks after Emma had returned Charming's early morning greeting, before turning to look longingly at the coffee maker.

"Ugh, just after one," Emma admits. "I got caught up in..."

"Your fierce need for vengeance against whoever came after me?" she suggests teasingly.

"Somethin' like that," Emma agrees easily. "He needs to pay. And he will. I'll find him, Mare. This is what I'm good at. I catch the bad guy. I always do, eventually. I've just got a lot of extra motivation this time. Whoever he is, he made the mistake of his life going after my best friend."

"Thanks Em," Snow says softly, keeping a tight grip of her emotions. It's powerful, this rush of pride and affection, sadness and pain, and above all love, but it's not something Emma can be allowed to see. A brief glance over at Charming helps; the understanding and encouragement she sees in his expression. He understands her, just the way she'd understood him just a few moments earlier, and that's how they'll be able to do this. They'll pull each other through.

"It means a lot to know you've got my back," she finishes, pleased with how calm and even she manages to keep her voice. "Did you find out anything?"

"Uh-uh," Emma sighs after taking a rather healthy sip of the coffee Charming had handed to her. "But I'm not discouraged. There's still so much more to look through. I've started working my way backwards through the arrest records, but starting with the current stuff, I mostly ended up with a fascinating play-by-play of Leroy's life of disorderly crime."

Snow winces, unable to hide her concern for her old friend and fiercest protector. "Anything really bad?" she asks, unsure if she really wants the answer.

"Nah," Emma responds easily. "You know him. He gets drunk, makes a spectacle of himself, and then pretty much waits for the Sheriff's station to haul him off to sober him up. He's not doing himself any good, but he's not hurting anyone else, and I'm pretty sure he never will. He's a mess, but he's got a good heart."

"Yeah," Snow sighs. "I've always thought that too."

"At any rate, he's the pinnacle of Storybrooke's criminal activity for at least the last year or two. I gave up for the night and came home when it started to get really boring and repetitive. I'll have to go back further in the records, but at the same time, to keep your description current I don't want to go back too far."

"Are you expecting to find anything?" Charming asks.

Emma shrugs. "In my experience, people don't just randomly start attacking women. There's a history, a motive, _something_ there to find, I just have to find it. This is just one path to explore. Now that it's light out, I'll also head back out into the woods today, see if I can find anything. Go from there."

He nods, accepting that. "Be careful out there, alright? Whoever this guy is, he's unstable."

His breath catches just a little bit when Emma flashes him a quick smile.

"I promise, I'll play it safe," Emma agrees, and that's good enough for him. Even in the short time spent in her company, he's already found himself struck by how capable his baby girl has grown up to be. In so many ways, she is very much her mother's daughter.

And that's all he needs to know, to trust her completely with one of the things he values most in the world - her own safety.

Not that he can't already feel protective instincts rearing up already, of course. That much is part of who he is, and who she is - his baby girl, damn it.

But.

She's his baby girl, twenty-eight years grown up and completely unaware of his role in her life.

He can't be a father to her, not now, not yet; and for that baby who had been so tiny in his arms, not ever.

It's not fair. It won't ever be fair.

But this is what he's got. Emma, all grown up, brave and beautiful, and needing friendship from him, not fatherhood.

So trusting her to take care of herself, it is.

He chats with her easily as they all sit down to eat, Emma working her way through a bowl of oatmeal topped with cinnamon and apple slices, he and Snow happy with eggs and toast. Emma's eyebrow had shot up when he turned down her offer of an apple - he'd never been able to stomach them since what had happened to Snow, though obviously he couldn't tell Em that. He'd told her he just didn't like them with the slightest hint of guilt for the lie, and Emma's face had lit in a way he'd already come to associate with her being ready to tease.

"Geez, Mare," she'd said, directing a grin towards Snow. "It's like you guys are meant to be, or something. The only two people on the planet who don't like apples."

Snow had rolled up her napkin and thrown it at her, to which Emma had laughed delightedly, telling him that this wasn't at all an out of character move for Mare. He'd have to ask Snow, later, if David was similarly playful with them.

Because making his daughter laugh the way she just had for Snow has jumped rather high up on his list of life priorities.

Snow's phone rings soon after, and as she leaves the table with an apology on her lips, he finds himself in the very strange panic of being alone with his daughter for the first time since he'd desperately run the newborn through the castle.

He wants so badly to know her, but it's such a perilous situation, not knowing what it's alright to say; what would be out of character for David to say, or things he should already know.

But hell, he's got to start somewhere.

"So," he starts, nodding at Emma's breakfast. "Since disliking apples is such a character flaw..."

Emma smirks. Decent start.

"Am I to take it that you'd call them your favourite?"

Her favourite food. Such a simple thing, one any father should know. He wants to know all of her favourites, every bit of her, but he'll take that as a start.

"Fave fruit, you mean, or?"

"Food in general," he corrects.

Emma looks down, quiet for a moment, but he says nothing, seeing that she's considering her answer. The expression on her face is so like Snow's when she's thinking that he barely manages to hold back a gasp.

"I mean, favourite fruit, probably... but there's be something wrong with calling something so healthy my favourite food," she points out, smirking, spurring his own grin in reply. "You saw me eat onion rings the other day, after all. I tend to subscribe to the theory that the worse something is for me, the better it tastes. So, favourite? Huh, is it too stereotypical cop of me to say Mare's lemon donuts are my new fave?" she asks, looking over to where Mare paces in the living area with her phone at her ear.

Following her glance, Charming feels his smile fall.

He knows his wife. Inside and out. Better than she knows herself. And he can see the tension in her shoulders, the fury in her eyes.

Whatever news the phone had brought this time, it wasn't good.

"Something's wrong," Emma murmurs.

So she can see it too, then. She obviously knew Mary well, but for her to still be able to read her so easily as Snow?

He decides he'll ponder the significance of that after he'd found out who the hell had dared to upset his wife.

* * *

><p>She resists the urge to pitch the phone across the room immediately after dropping the call.<p>

"Mare?" Emma asks, obviously concerned, and looking up, she can see the worry on both her husband and her daughter's faces; tending more towards wariness on Emma's and anger on Charming's.

"I'm okay," she says immediately, then falters.

Gods, her voice is shaking, and she knows she needs to find control, as she sinks down into the nearest chair.

"What happened?" Charming demands flatly, and she knows just by looking at him that he's getting himself in the mood to destroy something or someone.

Nothing got his back up like someone upsetting her.

She takes a deep breath.

"It seems Kathryn has carried through with her threats. Or Regina has, at any rate. The school just phoned. I'm not to show up at the school. A substitute will carry my classes for the foreseeable future. I've been suspended."

Oh, yes, that's what fury looks like on her husband, she remembers it well; but she'd never seen it on her daughter before.

They look so similar in this moment that she'd laugh if not for the fact that she feels damn close to tears.

Mare, she thinks, longing for her sister. This is so unfair to Mare.

She wanted, so badly, to do right by Mary. This is not the place to start, she realizes, choking on a sob. Charming is next to her in a flash, pulling her into a hug.

"With what cause?" Emma hisses, having worked her way through the shock.

Snow laughs, a hysterical note to it even to her own ears. "Regina says so? There is no cause, Em. I've done nothing wrong. My students adore me. They're performing well on tests and assignments. I'm respected by my coworkers. My track record speaks for itself. But the Mayor doesn't like me, so I'm out."

"That's not fair!" Emma snaps.

"You haven't known Regina for as long as I have," Snow sighs, suddenly resigned. "Nothing is ever fair with her. She's powerful, and she knows it, and doesn't give a damn about what she does with it. To hell with anyone else. She tells the school she doesn't want me teaching Henry, and the school bends over backwards for her."

"Why not just pull Henry from your class, then?"

"Because that doesn't hurt me enough to satisfy Regina, Em. She wants me punished."

"For what?" Emma exclaims, at her wit's end. "You're wonderful. What could you have possibly done to deserve this?"

"Be with me," Charming says, not without some bitterness. "It's just as Kathryn said she would do. She told me Regina would help her go after Mare if I didn't give our marriage another shot. I don't know why I'm surprised she went through with it. Kathryn's changed. She's cruel and cold in a way I never could have imagined her being."

Snow closes her eyes, knowing that only the name is wrong in his description. He feels that way about Abigail, a woman he had once considered close to being a sister. It hurts. She hurts for him.

"The fact that Regina and Kathryn are capable of massive bitch fits doesn't surprise me," Emma announces, devil may care as always. "The fact that my son's school just bows down to them? That surprises me. That pisses me off."

Shrugging, Snow looks up to find Emma approaching her, carrying the coffee she had abandoned on the table when she got the call.

"Here," Emma says softly, suddenly gentle, passing the coffee to her. "You look like you need it."

The gratefulness and love she feels is overwhelming. Such a little thing for Emma to do, but oh, oh it matters.

Emma sits, perching herself on the edge of the coffee table right in front of her, and with Charming having maneuvered himself into the chair she herself sits in, she's half on top of him, and they're both just right there with her, her beautiful, indignant, offended family.

And she knows Mare had it right last night. As long as she has them, nothing else matters.

"What Regina wants, she gets," she says suddenly, finding the fierceness she'd known as a bandit. "It's always been that way in this town. I'll deal with it. Regina and Kathryn are under the impression that they can destroy me. They're sadly mistaken."

Emma smirks. "So we're fighting back, then? Works for me. Regina's not the only 'all powerful' person in this town, Mare. Would Gold help? He'd have some influence, I'm sure of it."

Charming tenses noticeably beside her.

Snow shakes her head. "Not without something in it for him. And I'm not interested in finding out what that would be, Em. I won't be in debt to that man."

It's subtle, but with Charming so close, she can feel it when he sags with relief.

"Point," Emma says thoughtfully. "So then what? You're not going to be happy just sitting around the apartment."

"Go to the hospital, get back to volunteering?" Snow says, a suggestion to herself. "They don't get a lot of people wanting to help out there, and they need it. They'll take me back no problem. I'll see if I can parlay that into at least a temporary job there. It'd be something, at least."

"It won't be what you want," Emma points out carefully.

"No. But it's what I need to do, for now. I'm not ready to go to war with Regina, not yet," Snow clarifies, glancing over her shoulder at Charming, knowing he'll hear the significance. "When I go toe to toe with Regina, it'll be because I know I can win. It'll be to end it, once and for all. I'm so done with all of this. But if I'm going to take her on, I need something to take her out with."

"So until you have something on her, you're going to play by her rules?"

"Hardly," Snow snorts. "Her rules ultimately involve me staying away from David. That's not happening. She can do her worst. As long as I have you two in my corner, I'm going to be alright."

"Okay," Emma smiles, reaching across to squeeze her hand. "I've got to get back to the station, now that I know you're alright."

"Of course," Snow agrees, glancing at Charming too. "You should both get going."

"But Mare?" Emma asks as she stands, readying to head out the door.

"Mmm?"

"When you are ready to go to war with her?" Emma grins, a dangerous light in her eyes. "I'll be right there with you."

Snow laughs. It feels freeing, and she basks in it. "I appreciate that. Love ya, Em," she says, lightly, but there's no doubting the sincerity.

It's a risk, but worth it to watch her daughter's face soften and turn fond, even as she's halfway out the door.

"Love ya too. Both of you. Don't do anything stupid without me."

Again, Snow laughs, and she can feel Charming do the same. "Does that mean we can do something stupid when you're with us?"

"Always," Emma winks. "See you guys after work."

The door closes behind her, and Charming promptly places a kiss on top of Snow's head.

"I absolutely adore her," he murmurs into her hair. "I mean, I've loved her from the moment you told me you were pregnant, loved her when she was born, loved her when I ran her through the castle, loved her when I got her away. Loved her even through twenty-eight years of non-existence. I've loved her always, but Gods Snow, I underestimated what it would feel like to see her grown up, all fierce and strong. I knew I would always love her, but I didn't realize how much I would _like_ her. She's incredible."

"Of course she is," Snow says softly, turning her head just slightly to kiss the palm of the hand he's got cupping her face. "She's ours."

"So much like you it makes my heart pound," he agrees.

"Funny," she teases, "I was just thinking that she's exactly like you."

The joy obvious on his face at that thrills her.

"Ours?" he suggests, forehead against hers.

"Ours," she agrees, grinning into a kiss that turns very amorous, very quickly, Charming rearranging her in his lap while she's distracted, until she finds herself straddling him through - mostly - no fault of her own.

"Charming!" she exclaims, though ineffectively, as she can't quite seem to make herself stop kissing him. "We can't... you're going to be late for work."

"Ask me how much I care."

"Charming!"

"Snow," he counters, dragging out her name, somehow giving it five syllables. "Trust me, me going out in public right now is a terrible idea."

"Charming!"

He senses weakness. And also, his wife repeatedly exclaiming his name, in between kisses, is not at all helping to prepare him for the public.

He finds himself rather in the mood to hear his name exclaimed for different reasons.

So he plays dirty. And squeezes her knee.

The sound she makes when he does that might well be his favourite thing in the whole world.

"Not fair," she glares, even as she immediately begins pulling at his belt. "You're in trouble. After."

He grins, cheerfully unrepentant as ever when it results in clothes coming off. "I'll be quick?"

She raises a single eyebrow at him. "Oh, you'll be as long as I say you'll be, now."

Gods, he loves her.

Really, really... _really_ loves her.

* * *

><p>In the end, it seems he makes it into work only fifteen minutes late, but being on the early morning shift, he's the first one to arrive at the shelter anyway, so, you know, no harm done and plenty of fun had.<p>

She shakes her head at the phone, laughing in spite of herself at his text. In fact, she'd let him keep his promise of being quick, and they would have actually managed to get him to work on time if he hadn't wanted to talk about things after, make sure she was really okay.

He's so far beyond angry, she knows, and she certainly feels it too, but they'd been prepared for this possibility.

Being able to text him that the hospital had in fact welcomed her back with open arms, she's sure will be a reassurance.

He'd been worried about his job too, as she walked with him to the shelter - benefit to the tiny town she lives right in the middle of - but she'd been able to calm him about that.

He'd always been wonderful with animals. There's plenty of things for them to worry about, but that's not one of them.

"Just get through the day," she'd told him. "You're back with the animals all day. Get to know them, and you'll pretty much be good to go. When you get home, I'll tell you everything I can think of that David had mentioned about the job."

"I dunno why you can't just come work with me here," he'd drawled. "I'll make it worth your while."

She'd laughed, surprised and delighted and tempted all at once by the suggestiveness in his voice. "That's exactly why I can't work with you. We'd cause ourselves far too much trouble." She kissed him then, just quickly. "I'll see you tonight."

"If you insist," he'd sighed, kissing her once more. She'd gone to turn away then, ready to make the short walk to the hospital, but he'd grabbed her hand and pulled her back in.

"Hey," he drawled, "don't be starting any wars without me, okay?"

It was always amazing, what he could make her laugh with.

"Promise. I love you."

"Love you too."

He'd let her go after that, with one last - always necessary after those three little words - kiss, and all things considered, she wasn't in a bad frame of mind as she stood at the main nurse's station, already hard at work on organizing the area; a massive project that the nurses simply did not have the time for. She'd always been one to always want to be useful, even back in the Enchanted Forest when she'd been heavily pregnant.

It felt good to be helpful.

"The hell are you doing here?" a cold voice she'd know anywhere demands.

And so she looks up, tense and guarded, into the hateful eyes of her stepmother for the first time since the witch had cursed her to lose everything.

Not in a bad frame of mind? Thought too soon.

Regina had stolen _everything_ from her. And she dares to stand in front of her now, smug in her presumed victory.

Hate is intoxicating, she finds, seeing Regina. Powerful and seductive and so consuming, clouding her judgement. She'd known the feeling once through a darkened, shadowy mind; advancing through the forest with an enchanted weapon at her back and murder in her heart. She'd been ready to kill, then. So, so ready. Charming had gotten to her back then, and pulled her back to herself.

This is different though, feeling the hatred now. She knows who she is. She knows how she loves, and hell, they say love and hate are two sides of the same coin. Indeed, her love is what makes giving into the hate feel so, so tempting now. Regina had murdered her father, leveled entire villages of her people, attempted to kill her more times than she cared to count; but her worst crimes, the most unforgivable offenses were in the theft of a lifetime with her daughter, and the miserable life Emma had subsequently been sentenced to.

She had been an hour old, a newborn; the tiniest, most precious little thing she had ever seen.

And she can't ever have that back.

She'd never loved like that. Not even Charming. True love and first kisses don't exist, she'd told him once, and love at first sight fit in that category. She'd never believed love at first sight was a thing. Certainly, she hadn't fallen immediately, madly in love with the prince yelling at her with a bleeding chin.

No, finding love was in the falling, not the fall. She'd been sure of it.

But Emma, Emma was everything from the moment she'd been placed in her arms. She'd wanted her, oh how she'd wanted her, and she'd planned for her, and she'd longed for her for nearly nine months, basking in every movement and kick, but she hadn't _known_ what it would be like to see her until she'd seen her.

Love. Absolute, undying, all-consuming love.

Love at first sight did exist, then. It existed between parent and child.

She would have destroyed worlds for the tiny human who was hers.

She wants to destroy now. Can feel that instinct all over her entire body; the tension of her muscles, the twist of her stomach, the pounding of her heart.

There had been a christening gown that she and Charming had commissioned. All white satin and lace, so delicate she'd almost been afraid to touch it, so beautiful she couldn't take her eyes off it. In the latter stages of her pregnancy, she would spent hours just sitting in the nursery, staring at that gown, wondering what the baby might look like in it, imagining it.

Her christening was going to be a magical, kingdom-wide celebration. Everyone had been involved in the preparations, a source of joy for the kingdom in the face of so much new princess, the heir to two thrones, she'd been _wanted_ so much by so many.

Emma was supposed to have had a beautiful life. She had _planned_ a beautiful life for her, beginning in that stunning nursery she and Charming had painstakingly prepared every detail of themselves.

Emma never should have had to doubt for a second in her life how loved she was.

But she did and she had. For twenty-eight years, she had. Still, now, she has absolutely no idea how much she was wanted.

Because of Regina.

There's no suffering in the world that would make up for Emma's.

She stares at Regina, and she hates, and she burns with it.

_Don't be starting any wars without me. _

But what if she's already in one?

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: I suck. And I know it. Almost six months between chapters is unforgivable. I'd tell you all that it's a combination of many things, real life and work changes and other stories (I still choose you had me utterly consumed for *ages) and Christmas and a giant addiction to the Olympics that prevented me from so much as touching my writing for two weeks because I was too busy losing my damn mind over Canada. All of that is true. And all of that is a giant pile of excuses. <strong>_

_**Truth is, I always have a 'feel' for this story, and for a really long time I lost that. It wouldn't have been right to work on this story without it. But I think I've found it again now, and this chapter is the result. Please, please, if ever you're going to let me know what you think of this story, now is the time. It was rather confidence shaking to know where I wanted this story to go but feel completely unable to put words to it. Let me know, if nothing else, if this chapter feels 'off' at all, or if it flows with the story I've been telling properly. **_

_**I'm still on twitter and tumblr as icingsfanfic. Love always to all of my followers on both. So often, knowing that you guys love this story enough to put up with me and all my craziness keeps me going. **_

_**Thanks, as always, for reading. **_


	22. For Love, For Hate

**Chapter Twenty-One: For Love, For Hate **

Inhale. Exhale.

_Don't be starting any wars without me. _

Inhale. Exhale.

_When you are ready to go to war with her? I'll be right there with you. _

Inhale. Exhale.

It's about Charming and Emma. It has been for a very long time. She's not a bandit, alone in the forest, fending for herself. Not anymore. She's got a family.

Wait for them.

They're waiting for her.

They need her to come home at the end of the day; this day, everyday.

Inhale. Exhale.

Regina needs to pay.

She will.

Just not yet.

It's not worth the risk. Not this time.

_When you are ready to go to war with her? I'll be right there with you. _

Emma.

_Don't be starting any wars without me. _

Charming.

Inhale. Exhale.

Breathe.

Keep breathing.

Survive for yourself.

Live for them.

"Do I need to repeat myself, Ms Blanchard?" Regina hisses. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm working, Madam Mayor," Snow finally manages, tone clipped but restrained and thus somehow managing the modicum of politeness necessary for public display; keeping Mare and what she would do in mind and at heart, always. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Regina appears quite obviously off kilter, clearly not having expected her there at all, and she scores that as a point for herself. (Snow will take all the points she can get).

However, the Evil Queen has long been nothing if not quick to bounce back; her face soon clear of any outward sign of her discomfort.

"You'll have to forgive my confusion," Regina sneers. "It's ten in the morning on a Tuesday, and the last I checked, you were a schoolteacher, and I generally expect my town's teachers to be at school in such circumstances."

"The last you checked?" Snow repeats cooly. Mary may have lived twenty-eight years quietly and meekly, retreating in on herself when faced with the slightest hint of conflict, but she had grown a backbone as Snow had watched and cheered her on, and she thus knows damn well her sister wouldn't have taken that one sitting down. "Oh, you and I both know that's not true."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Regina demands.

It's a risk, to look up then, to make eye contact. She knows it. She's going on nothing but pure blind faith that she is right about the curse and its effects, and she's doing it alone, without Charming for backup. If she's wrong, it would be the end of everything then and there, and she's just barely even started.

Oh yes, is it ever a risk. But for Mary, she has to do it.

If Mare were here, she would not be letting Regina bully her now.

Snow has no intention of letting her down by acting otherwise.

She stands up straight, if slightly rigid shouldered, looking her stepmother right in the eye. "Only that you were well aware I would not be at the school today," she says evenly. "And that we both know the reason why that is. No need to pretend otherwise, Mayor Mills. Your only surprise was to find me here."

And Regina - she looks thrown. Caught off guard. Furious, no doubt, the kind of fury that leaves a person speechless and gaping, wildly grasping for words that always seem just slightly out of reach.

And yet there is still not the slightest hint of increased recognition. That 'You!' moment that Snow knows well, having experienced it herself so many times before. That's what she's looking for in Regina's eyes, and it's simply not there.

Regina is as angry as she has ever been with Mary Margaret.

But the rage, the pure and more than slightly unhinged hatred Snow had seen in Regina's eyes directed at herself for years - that's not there. The woman glaring at her now sees her as an irritant, a bug to be swatted at, punished at her own amusement. Not a dangerous enemy. Not the one she continues to blame for ruining her life even through the distance of time, space, and magic.

She'd guessed right.

The Evil Queen has no idea she is staring down Snow White.

And for this, Snow knows, good finally has a chance.

"You'd best watch your tongue, Ms Blanchard," Regina says lowly, gathering herself once more.

"No," Snow retorts, quick and biting, though still relishing in the unease she can see in everything about how Regina is holding herself right now.

"Excuse me?" the other woman hisses, voice scarcely more than a whisper.

"Let me be clear, Madam Mayor. You do not tell me how to live my life. Any control you think you have over me is a farce. You interfere with my job? I go right out and get another. Go ahead and try to mess with this one, and see how fast I rise above once more. I will not sit around at home in order to heed your wishes anymore than I will be silent simply because you demand it. You do not control me. You never have."

Regina's shock is obvious in her coldly beautiful features; nostrils flaring as she exhales, a signifier of her uneven breathing. Snow watches carefully, noticing and taking note. She hasn't _really_ known Regina for many years, if she ever truly had; any intel gleaned now could prove to be invaluable down the line.

She swallows, then works a cool smile onto her face. It couldn't be more false, of course, but Regina's ability to save face remains a thing to be marveled at. She can give her stepmother credit for that much.

"If we're laying our cards onto the table," Regina starts, smile steadying into one of threatening cunning, "then let me be clear also, Ms Blanchard. Kathryn Nolan is a dear friend of mine, little though you would know about that. And I make it a point to take care of my friends. I will not stand around and watch you steal her husband. So let us make a deal, _dear_. Walk away from David Nolan, and all of this ends. You know well the power I have. One word from me, and the 'concerns' the school has about your character would go up in smoke. You get back to your job having scarcely missed a day, your students would hardly notice. Probably assume you had the sniffles. Your reputation, such that it is, stays in tact. And you and I both go back to the pleasantness of a life in which we have nothing to do with each other. On the other hand, continue on with your... relationship... with Mr Nolan, and prepare yourself for the lengths I will go to to destroy you - and I promise you from the bottom of my heart, you _will_ be destroyed. It's your choice, dear. So what will it be?"

Snow leans forward over the counter she stands behind, invading Regina's personal space, leaving a foot between them, if that. And with a tilt of her head that would almost be playful in any other circumstances, Snow smiles the sweetest smile she has in her repertoire, innocent and girlish; the practiced simper of the princess she should have always been, before Regina had stolen her life and throne out from under her.

At ease with herself and the decision for which there was never a question - for her, or Mare - her voice is like sugar when she murmurs directly into Regina's ear, "Go to hell."

* * *

><p>There's a split second in which Snow wonders if she'd gone too far, pushed her luck too much antagonizing Regina in this way, and ended up revealing her hand. But no; while Regina has gone slack-faced and pale with shock, there is still somehow no suspicion in her dark eyes. Hate, yes, oh is there ever hate there, blatant and cruel for it. Regina has always wanted her to suffer, brought hell down upon an entire realm in order to make her pay, and that never changed over nearly three decades of her glaring at Mary Margaret instead of herself.<p>

But now Regina glares at Snow, and has no idea. She glares at her, and doesn't _see_. There's no shock, no recognition.

Raging hatred. Zero suspicion.

Little wonder. Regina is used to a Snow White who was always looking to make amends and reconnect; wanting to give the benefit of the doubt to find the goodness she'd once known in her now blackened heart once more. A Snow who could never quite hate completely, still hanging on to the last vestiges of the adoration that could have been love that she had felt for Regina when they had first met. Handing out second, and third, and hundredth chances for the sake of the young girls they'd both once been, that's the woman who Regina knows.

It's not who Snow is now.

Not anymore.

Not after twenty-eight years of being a ghost in her own body.

Not after nearly three decades of time spent lost without not just her husband, but her _true love_ - an agony none but Charming could ever understand. (True loves are not ever meant to part, not without suffering the loss of that connection terribly. Being without him had been a torture she considered herself lucky to have stayed sane through; to have survived at all.)

And _especially_ not after her baby grew up without her, after having had but a single, solitary, heartbreaking hour of holding her, tiny and beautiful and perfect and _theirs_.

She'd lost too much, far too much. More than anyone could ever be expected to lose and reasonably bear.

Because of Regina. _All_ of it because of Regina, who couldn't forgive a child's naive mistake.

Maybe it would have been different if there had been some malicious intent in her own young heart so many years ago. If she had _truly_ wanted to hurt Regina, to ruin her life, to keep her from her love; maybe all that Regina had done out of vengeance would have been - not okay, _never _okay, but maybe there would have been more meaning to it. Maybe it would have been understandable, in a vicious sort of way. Revenge owed is a cruel but powerful motivator.

But no. All Snow had wanted was to protect Regina from losing her mother, a fate she'd experienced herself far too young, leaving her with a desperate desire to keep anyone else from suffering the same. A girl needed her mom no matter how old they were, Snow had always thought, and she'd _just_ wanted Regina to be able to keep hers.

Oh, she'd been foolish, she knows she had been. She should have recognized how Cora had manipulated her then and there; but then, the horrible woman had known exactly which buttons to push, exactly how to get to her.

Playing the lost mommy card always gets to the little girl with the dead mommy.

And so Cora had gotten to her, oh Gods, she had; forcing her hand into a mistake that she couldn't imagine the consequences of, a mistake that would define so much of her life.

A child's naive mistake.

Regina had never let her explain. She'd simply withdrawn, deeper and deeper into her own misery, her own darkness until it was all that was left to her, leaving her finally lashing out; an uncontrolled inferno burning up everything in its path, leaving only destruction and loss in its wake.

Regina hadn't cared. People got hurt, people were killed; innocents, women, children, it didn't matter, not to her. Regina had no regrets, no conscience. Anyone else, _everyone_ else were simply collateral damage to her, laid waste to on her vengeful path to Snow White, the little girl who had been manipulated into giving up a secret that she had had no idea the true extent of.

That was the part that bothered her the most, out of all of it. Regina had to have known, she simply _had_ to have, that Cora would go after the child in order to get the truth. It's Manipulator 101: Target the most easily manipulated. Of course it would be Snow, the child with the mommy complex; the girl who had already lost one mom, and who would do anything to protect another.

Why, for the love of all the Gods, hadn't Regina just _warned _her how just crucial the secret was, the lengths her mother would go to for it?

If only she'd known.

Everything would have been different.

Of course Snow regretted her naivety, her foolishness. She still accepted more than her fair share of the blame for everything that had happened with Daniel. But after countless nights discussing the matter with Charming, her most faithfully steadfast and determined defender (even against herself), her love had finally convinced her of her own innocence.

Naivety and foolishness are general hallmarks of childhood, after all.

And when it all came down to it, Snow White _had _been a child at the time. There was no getting around this most basic fact. She'd been but a girl. A naive, foolish, _innocent_ little girl.

She had made a mistake; a simple, terrible mistake. She knows that.

Said mistake had set in motion a sequence of events with horrifying consequences. She knows this too.

But she's not responsible for the chain of motion. Cora was. Regina was. And she's pretty sure the imp had entirely dirty hands in all of it. All of these people, all of their darkness, all their black magic, all doing terrible things. There's so many moments in the sequence, where if just one of them had done something differently, something better, something _good_, so much of the pain and loss could have been avoided.

She knows this most of all, now.

She did not kill Daniel. She did not turn Regina's heart black. She did not kill her father, nor the countless villagers who had been slain. She did not destroy the Huntsman's life. She did not reign terror upon her kingdom. She did not enact the Dark Curse.

When she was twelve years old, she told a secret she shouldn't have. The end, full stop.

Nothing that happened afterwards was her fault. Everything else, the hell, the terror; it all resulted from the actions of others, made out of cruelty and hatred, rather than the love and protective instinct she herself had - if misguidedly - acted out of.

She made a mistake as a child, as children do. No child deserves to suffer for it.

_She_ had never deserved to suffer for it.

She's done with blaming herself, done with making excuses for Regina. Her stepmother is every bit the evil she had proclaimed herself in her self-styled moniker. There can be no more denying that.

And so they come to this moment, here, now. And he Evil Queen can stare at her with all the poorly disguised hatred she wants. It doesn't matter. For she doesn't see what and who is right in front of her. She cannot.

She has never known the Snow White before her now.

She has never known a Snow White who hates her right back.

* * *

><p>Regina grits her teeth, purses her lips, shakes her head just slightly from side-to-side, as if in disbelief.<p>

"You _dare_..." she finally hisses.

"_Yes_, I dare," Snow interrupts, cutting off another opportunity for the witch to go on the attack. "David and I are happy together. I would not put an end to what we are together for anything or anyone, least of all you. You have _no right_, Madam Mayor, you have no right at all to meddle in my relationship. You're the mayor, _not_ God. There is not a person in this town who would simply bow down to your will, break off a relationship they're happy in just because you wish it so. So yes, I repeat, 'go to hell', Mayor Mills. Because there is no way _in_ hell I am ending things with David."

Regina's eyes flash furiously, dark and foreboding; a twisted facsimile of a content smile comes to play at her lips - there was no joy there, rather cruelty, but beauty still even in that. Regina had always been a beautiful woman; the most beautiful she'd ever seen, she'd thought when she first met her as a girl. That beauty remained, but hate had turned it cold, deadly. Hers was a dark, haunting beauty now; haunting for only the briefest glimpses it allowed at the loving, glowing young woman she'd once been, warm and lit up from the inside out.

That woman was long gone. And Snow knows she should have realized this long ago.

'The Queen is dead. Long live the Evil Queen', so legend said that her stepmother had once proclaimed.

She hadn't had it quite right. For Regina had only married her father after Daniel's death, and so there had always been a darkness to her as regent, even before the murdering spree began. It wasn't a good queen who had been lost to her hate.

It was the ordinary girl who had adored horses, who had loved the stable boy who cared for them, and who hadn't thought twice about saving the life of a terrified little girl.

'_Regina_ is dead. Long live the Evil Queen.' _That's _how it is.

So be it.

Regina Mills may have brought her former name with her to this land, but Snow White is still very much aware of who she's dealing with. There are no surprises here - not for her, anyway.

"Do you think your girlish delusions of 'true love' and 'happily ever after' will save you now?" Regina sneers, a quip to match the smile, surely delighted with herself for the cruelly delivered fairy tale jibe, an inside joke with herself. "You'll be ruined, dear. I shall see fit to that. You'll be the town pariah, the whore. No one will have anything to do with you. No job, no friends, no life. How long do you truly think he'll put up with it? Do you think David Nolan will want you then?"

Knowing how it infuriated her before, Snow keeps the smile on her face. "We shall see, won't we?"

Regina's smile, on the other hand, vanishes into nothingness, leaving only the blatant hatred that had been there all along, just now uncovered by a complete lack of pretense of civility. "You are a fool, Ms Blanchard. And you will regret this."

Snow laughs lowly. "Try me. I love David, Madam Mayor. And more than that, he loves me. There is no regret in being with him. Defying you? Oh, that's simply the cherry on top."

Regina gapes, unable to hide how stunned she is.

It's a little triumph, and Snow will always take those.

"But at any rate," she continues, turning back to the papers that scatter the desk she works at, as dismissive as dismissive can be, "I do appreciate the warning, Mayor Mills. Now if you'll please excuse me, I have work to do, and I'd hate to have to call security to escort you from the premises. We don't want to make a scene, after all."

Regina takes a long moment to gather her bearings, then straightens, plainly ready to leave the situation in which it is clear to both parties that she has taken the loss, but unable to help herself from trying to get a last word in. "I swear to God, you will pay, Ms Blanchard. You will suffer. And I will enjoy it. Every last moment of misery I add to your miserable little life, I will enjoy."

Snow spares her a glance only just as the other woman had very nearly clip-clopped her way entirely out of sight. Unable to help herself, she smirks.

"Duly noted," she calls cheerfully.

She has the immense joy of watching Regina's shoulders stiffen slightly just as she stomps out the hospital exit.

She heard that.

Score another point to Snow White.

She does believe that leaves her with the blowout win on this day.

Reasonably content considering the unpleasant encounter with evil stepmommy, Snow makes it through the remainder of her morning easily and productively. She feels as though she's making legitimate progress even on just her first morning, and the satisfaction of productive hard work will always be a pleasure to her. The appreciation obvious on the faces of the nurses who stop by the station to see how she's doing, that too is a joy, and she finds herself genuinely smiling as the hours go by. For a long stretch of the morning, she does not even think of Regina at all.

And so, it is not until Snow sits down at an empty table in the cafeteria for her lunch break that she finds herself wondering why in the world Regina had even been at the hospital in the first place.

* * *

><p>On her break, Snow eats almost as an afterthought, her focus largely upon Mary's cell phone as she fiddles with it, wondering to herself if it's strictly speaking entirely necessary to let Charming know about everything that had happened with Regina.<p>

She lets herself have a whole glorious two minutes of thinking that no, she doesn't need to tell him because there's no sense worrying him over what turned out to be nothing but same old, same old, before she sighs.

It might well have been nothing, but she doesn't keep secrets from her husband, and that's not a new habit she has any interest in starting. Regina is an enemy, and Charming deserves to know whenever anything happens with her.

She is however determined not to make a big deal out of it, so rather than calling her husband, she sends a quick text, loving and teasing, just checking up on how his first day at work is going and wondering which of the animals he likes best so far, if he has the same faves that David had, oh and by the way Regina was at the hospital this morning and they had a bit of an argument but everything's fine and last but not least is your lunch okay, because if not she can pick up whatever he would prefer at the store on the way home.

Text, she decides, after breezily sending it away, is so much more blase and chill than a phone call or message by carrier pigeon and or (vastly preferable) bluebird.

Charming's reply comes fast and furious, bringing with it a rather flat message.

_What. _

She winces. Charming had always been very proud of the way his mother had taught him how to write, and was thus always very careful about grammar and punctuation in anything he wrote. The lack of a question mark here would have been entirely intentional, making it quite clear that this is no question (for he's always made it a point not to ask questions there are no good answers for).

Maybe she didn't think this all the way through.

Her phone vibrates again.

_Snow. _

_I'm right on the edge right now. Don't think I won't come storming over there. _

She wouldn't doubt it. She can picture him now, so clearly, wildly looking around the animal shelter for some form of weaponry, feeling personally offended by the lack of available swords. What sort of establishment would come so brutally unequipped?

She finds herself laughing at the thought, at the mental picture, so clear she would almost think she had magically gained the ability to literally read Charming's mind, see what he sees, thinks what he thinks.

Giggling at her cell phone on her lunch break. That's how she knows she really is okay, and she tells him so.

_I'm fine, Charming. Truly. It was a shock to see her, and I got angry, but I kept my cool. I didn't blow our cover. We'll talk more at home tonight. _

_Snow. _

Of course he wouldn't just accept it.

_Charming. It really is okay. *I'm* really okay. I promise you this. You know you can trust my promises. _

For a few minutes, her phone is silent, and she can imagine him raging to himself before huffing his begrudging acceptance.

_Why was she even at the hospital? Are such visits typical by a mayor in this world? _

_No, they're not. Especially when the mayor is Regina. Warm and fuzzy public relations stunts are not her thing. She didn't seem to be here visiting anyone, and she was completely thrown off to see me here, so it definitely wasn't about me. I don't have any idea why she was here, and that's the only thing that's bothering me - that I can't quite shake the thought in the back of my mind that there's something to this, something important. _

_I trust your instincts more than anything in the world, my darling. If you think there's something more to this, I'm willing to bet there is. We'll talk it over tonight, see if we can work it out together. _

_Over cocoa? _She types back with a smile.

_I'm quite certain cocoa is always implied, my love. _

_Good, cause it's a deal-breaker. _

_I remember, _he replies, and somehow, all the affection in the world is contained in two little words sent by text of all things, and she gasps just a little, suddenly feeling warm all over.

She can picture his expression, the sound of his voice, so clearly it's as if he were sitting right across from her at the table. Soft eyes, an almost smile. Just the slightest drawl, full of the amusement of a shared secret. Warm, so warm, in gaze and inflection both. He is a man in love with his wife, taking joy from a shared memory of a shared life, in all the simplicity and complexity of that.

Oh, yes, she can picture him so very exactly, the way she has this entire break. She knows him, after all - mind and body, heart and soul - and loves him all the way through.

Gods, after the harrowing run-in with Regina, this was exactly what she'd needed. She'd just needed her husband, needed him to make her smile.

_Charming_, she types, then stops, unsure of how to continue, how best to put what she's feeling into words. She sends the text as is.

_I know. I love you. _

She laughs once, more an exhaling of air than actual sound. Of course he would just get it anyway. He always does.

_I'm so glad you're here, _she tells him, knowing he'll understand her to mean here in this world, with her. _I don't know that I could do this without you. _

_You could, _he responds immediately, quick to correct her on this. _You're so strong, my love. The strongest person I've ever known. You could do it, as you can do anything. But I'm glad you don't have to. I'm so happy I get to be here with you. I'm so glad you brought me back. _

_Found you_, she smiles as she types, invoking what had basically become their catchphrase with no small amount of delight.

_Always. _

And there's the response.

Her break time nearly up, but in a far better mood for it, Snow grins at her phone one last time.

_I've gotta go, my lunch break is just about over. Thank you for spending it with me. _

_Mine as well. But Snow, we _will_ talk about everything later. _

_Yes, I promise. I love you. _

_I love you too, my darling. Have a good afternoon. Try and avoid any enemies. _

_I'll do my best. See you tonight. _

* * *

><p>The afternoon passes by in a blur of paper; Snow working hard to work one of the lower filing cabinets into some semblance of organization. For some time, she wonders how anyone finds anything at all amidst the chaos, then eventually - after seeing some names come up over and over again - realizes that it seems as though the staff just starts a new chart for every patient visit, regardless of how many times they've been there, aside from a few select individuals whose medical histories are complicated enough to warrant full files kept vaguely organized in a special drawer of really-sick-people-honour.<p>

Gotta love small towns. Or perhaps to be more apt, _cursed_ small towns.

She can imagine she'll have enough work going through the file cabinets alone to last her for weeks; the one she's tackling today having only taken her up to last names from A-F. (Thank goodness for small favours, the hospital's staff seemed to at least made some attempt at shoving files into the right alphabetical drawer, if not in any actual order beyond that). It pleases her, the thought that she has so much to do; that she can be of use for some time while Regina has her hissy fit and throws her mayoral weight around, preventing her from being at the school where she belongs.

It's pleasant work - she'd loved the organizing part of the royal role back in the Enchanted Forest, and Mare had carried that particular personality trait forward for both of them in this land. She's even entertained - if bittersweetly - more than once by seeing her sister's name come up, Blanchard a recurring name on the countless scraps of paper she sorts through. Records of an X-ray on her ankle after a fall or stitches after having cut her hand, or of a prescription to help fight a nasty bout of strep throat. A whole bunch of little things that she doubts Mare would even remember, or have ever had any memory of.

A whole medical history, either provided by a curse, or lived through it.

Regina did do the thing properly. The amount of detail - and magic it would have taken to sustain it - is staggering.

But it's good to have the reminders; of what they're up against, and what they've got to fight for. Regina is formidable, and it's important that they don't lose sight of that.

And Mare...

Mare had a life.

Yes, the childhood and adolescence that she'd only had vague recollections of had never actually occurred. Yes, she'd spent near three decades trapped in time and space, kept the exact same age for twenty-eight years somehow without noticing or suspecting; one of so many victims of a curse that defied reason.

But damn it, she'd _lived_ those twenty-eight years. She'd lived. She'd sprained her ankle and sliced her hand and gotten sick and countless other things that had absolutely nothing to do with Snow White. Mary Margaret Blanchard had been a person, all her own.

She'd had a life.

She deserved it back.

And Snow White had every intention of giving it to her. She would find a way. She needed to find Mare, and David too, she needed to bring them back. And she needed to defeat Regina, so she could give her friends their rightful lives back; Mare very much the beloved fifth grade teacher at Storybrooke Elementary.

It was a hell of a to-do list, and daunting for it, but it all started here. Keeping Mare's life going, while she assumed her place for awhile.

She owed Mary that. She owed it to her, to do good with her life.

It's with this thought, and a smile brought on by yet another jolt from noticing Mare's name come up in the piles of paper she sorts through - this, a record of a blood donation she had made, one of what seemed to be many, a regular routine for her so caring self - that Snow feels a much needed reassurance and increase in motivation.

Screw Regina. Mary and David were the ones who mattered, and she knew she was on the right path to helping them. She and Charming together would find them and make things right, for everyone.

Good always won, eventually. It may take time, it may be agonizing, but good always came through.

And Mare was so freaking good. That would be enough.

Yeah, it was asking a lot of belief, to go on pure faith and little else, but she'd long since learned from Charming that it was possible. That faith _could_ often be enough.

He'd help her along the way.

With a quick and eye-widening glance at her watch - it had gotten much later than she had thought - Snow decides to make the pile of paper and folders she's just finishing sorting through now her last, and call it a day. She'd already worked later than she was expected to, picking up some overtime on her first day, having not wanted to leave what she had been working on unfinished. (Incomplete tasks had always bothered her, even back in the Enchanted Forest. She abhorred leaving work behind to complete another time. Once a task was started, she was damn well going to finish it.) And Charming had of course taken no small amount of delight in teasing her about this when she'd texted to let him know she would be late. She's still very much his Snow, through and through.

And quite proud of it.

Now, tired and satisfied with the progress made, all she really wants is to go home to said teasing husband.

With that happy thought, she dots the last i and crosses the last t on the labels she'd been making, putting those last few files away into the now gloriously organized and functional file drawer. Just the one down, Gods only knew how many left to go, but hey, she'd get there.

The drawer now shut and locked, Snow attempts to stand, but wavers on more than slightly shaky legs - an afternoon spent sitting on a hard hospital floor apparently not so good for the circulation - and falls right back down, having only gotten her head above the counter at the nurse's station for just a second.

Long enough to have seen a flash of dark hair and rose coloured silk.

Swallowing, wondering if she'd actually seen what she thinks she'd seen, she lifts herself up again, slowly, slightly, just enough to sneak the tiniest peek over the counter, but keeping herself low enough so that the only way she'd be seen is if someone had already been looking where she was.

This part of the hospital seems otherwise deserted; it having gotten so late, most everyone had long since headed home for the day. Thus, the lone figure, glancing around the room warily looks more than a little bit out of place.

And more than a little bit suspicious for it.

Seeming satisfied that she's alone, clearly having not seen Snow, Regina Mills nods to herself, before turning and stopping at an emergency exit Snow had never once noticed before, even when trapped in Mary's head, and with the access to Mary's memories that she'd had, she strongly suspects her sister had never seen it either.

It feels strange to Snow, knowing her own tendency to pay very strong attention to her surroundings, that there would be something so blatant that she just wouldn't have seen.

The fine hairs on the back of her neck rise on end; a shiver born of suddenly suspecting the presence of some powerful magic.

Still using the side benefits of this world as well, Regina enters a passcode into the nearby keypad, not knowing she's being watched unblinkingly, not knowing Snow White is even now thanking the Gods for her archery-strengthened eyesight, eyes locked on this new target, making note of the four digit code the sorceress enters.

With the slightest of noises, the code is accepted, and opening the now unlocked door, Regina disappears through it.

Leaving Snow alone once more, shakily exhaling in attempt to calm her suddenly churning stomach.

What the _hell_ is Regina up to?

* * *

><p>Trying to ignore panic and <em>think<em> is not as easy as it really should be, but Snow gives it her best shot.

Clearly, whatever Regina was doing beyond the mysterious door (_so_ not an emergency exit, regardless of how it is labelled) was the reason why she had been at the hospital earlier in the day. She'd been up to the same something then, and had gotten waylaid by the unexpected appearance of 'Mary Margaret'. She'd kicked up a fuss, started a fight, perhaps in attempt to distract from whatever her original purpose had been. Whatever it was, she hadn't wanted Mare to know about it. Which definitely meant it wasn't anything good. Moreover, she'd come back. Later in the day, when everyone, including her, should have been long gone. Rather than give up, let it go, wait for another day, she'd come back the same day. That meant it was important. Not to her farce of a mayorship, but to her true purpose of maintaining the curse, and denying happy endings to everyone with a fairy tale past.

She _had_ to find out what Regina was doing. She knew she'd have to go through that door - having seen the passcode, she would be able to - but she certainly couldn't follow her through it now, what with the risk of Regina re-emerging at any moment.

She doesn't even want to think of what would happen if she went through that door and ran straight into Regina.

Hell, she's a bit of a sitting duck even now, in danger merely for having been here when she shouldn't have been, having seen. It's not as if her hiding place, ducked behind the counter, curled up on the floor was particularly safe. Gods, Regina had even seen her working there earlier this day, what if she came over to snoop through what she'd been working on, or sabotage it somehow, on her way back out of the hospital?

She would come around the counter and find not the work, but the woman who had done it.

That would not go well.

And you know, forget that. She would not sit there, cowering, just waiting for Regina to come and find her and do to her what she may. Snow White was, and always would be, _way_ more of a fighter than that.

Ignoring the continued shakiness of her legs, Snow throws herself to her feet and forward into a run, knowing she cannot afford to waste time when Regina could return at any given moment. She ducks into the nearest supply closet, conveniently close by given its contents are largely office and cleaning supplies intended for the nurse's station. Being so near, she keeps an excellent sightline of Regina's mysterious door, even after she closes the closet door behind her, leaving it open only by the tiniest crack.

It's enough. She can see what's going on, and she's far safer here than she was curled up on the floor behind the counter. Regina is not likely to waste time searching the seemingly empty, innocuous corridor.

She'll be safe. She's gotten herself safe, and she decides to count that as another win, for she can use all the wins she can get.

It takes about another ten, maybe fifteen minutes, but Regina finally emerges from the door once more, a satisfied smirk on her face confirming that she was indeed up to absolutely no good. She appears self-assured again, carrying herself very much as the queen whose throne she'd stolen, an obvious change from the almost defeated body language she'd had after their clash that morning.

Not good.

Regina leaves the way she came, proceeding immediately out the main hospital entrance, not delaying in the slightest after seeming to have accomplished what she came for. Even still, Snow does not move for a long time, scarcely even daring to breathe, for fear that Regina may come back for some reason and catch her having been there bearing witness the entire time.

She stays hidden exactly where she is for long enough that after who only knows how many minutes have gone by, her phone begins vibrating in her pocket, announcing the call of a worried husband. Sparing a moment to thank the Gods she'd only had it on vibrate - she can't even imagine what would have happened if her phone had gone off with an audible ringtone while Regina was there - she answers it with only the slightest apprehension.

Yes, she's still worried - terrified, if being honest - over being overheard and caught somehow, but damn, she really needs to talk to her husband right now.

"Charming?" she whispers instinctively, then winces. Way to freak out the likely already concerned husband from the very beginning of the check-up phone call. Be as quiet as possible for absolutely no reason that he's aware of.

It's funny how being close to silent can be the loudest alarm imaginable.

There's just the slightest moment of silence, a beat of it, as Charming mentally processes the idea that no, his wife would not be whispering to answer her phone if everything were just fine as he had hoped.

Then, protective husband mode, immediately activated.

"Are you in danger?" he demands, getting right to the point of it, the most pertinent question first; the words bitten off and rushed into each other, not wasting even a second on normal speaking patterns. "Are you hurt? Where the hell are you, Snow?"

"I think I'm safe, I don't think I'm in trouble, but I can't promise you, because I'm not certain," Snow whispers, peering through the crack of door that she had left open, trying to ascertain if it's truly safe to move, or even to be having this conversation. "I'm still at the hospital. I was working late, like I told you I was. I'd lost track of time, and I was just getting ready to leave, when I saw Regina come back. But Charming, this time she didn't see me, and whatever she's doing, it must have been why she was here this morning too, but she was thrown off course by seeing me here... Gods, she is up to something, and I just know it's terrible. She seems to be gone now - I'm still hiding - but I just can't shake this terrible feeling."

He exhales into the phone, the slightest bit calmer for it. "Come home now, my darling, so you can tell me more of what happened, and we'll discuss it, figure it all out together. Or, no, you know what, better yet, wait there and stay safe, I'm on my way, I'll come get you. I'll feel better as soon as I've got you in arm's reach again..."

"I don't think this can wait," Snow argues breathlessly. "She doesn't know I was here, she doesn't know I saw, she doesn't know I have the passcode... I should go down there now, see what she is doing, before we risk her changing it on us before we can find anything out."

"No, Snow, wait, take a moment, take a breath, and tell me what is going on."

"There's a door she's got locked here. I'd never noticed it before, no one had. It's almost as if she had it magically protected or something, it doesn't get seen until and unless its protector leads you right to it, but Charming, she's got it locked with a passcode and everything, and if she's got it so protected, the highest protection she can give it from both worlds, there's _something_ to this, and I need to go find out what, while I can!"

"Snow," he says, urgently now, clearly having heard something in his wife's voice - a borderline reckless need to take action familiar from many adventures had back in the Enchanted Forest - that scares him. "I'll be right there, I'll stay on the phone with you the entire while, I'm _coming_. You don't know what's in there, what Regina would go to such measures to keep hidden..."

"That's exactly it," she says, determined now. "We need to know. I'm going in there. I'll be careful, I promise."

"Snow, going in there blind, alone, is not being careful! I need you to wait for me!"

A moment of silence, a breath, a sigh.

"I can't," she tells him, not without regret. Apologetic, but determined. "I've got to do this. Forgive me."

A click.

"Snow?"

And then, nothing. An utter lack of response, the sudden silence of a phone call dropped.

"Snow!"

Just the absolute terror of a man whose heart is now out of his hands.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: It seems I will forever be apologizing for terribly long delays between updates. Again, I am so sorry. I've been distracted by having too many ideas in my head at once, and I've been thus finding it strangely hard to focus on any one of them to actually get anything written. <strong>_

_**I'd like to promise you all now that I'm going to do better. However, I'm not going to make that promise as I'm unsure that I'll be able to keep it. I literally just started work at a brand new job this week, and it is going to take away from my writing time considerably, so I won't be able to get stories out there as quickly as I would like. **__**This chapter was actually meant to be far longer than it is, but knowing that I would not be able to finish it every time soon if I kept it as it was originally intended to be, I decided to split the planned content into two, so I could give you, my lovely readers, the half I had nearly ready for you now, rather than forcing you all to wait much longer for the full chapter. **_

_**Know that the next chapter is thus completely planned out, it will simply be a matter of when it can be written. **_

_**At any rate, I thank you all for your patience, and I hope you enjoyed what I have ready to give you. **_

_**New readers gained from the Captain Swan side of the fandom, a special hello to you all. The response to 'The Here and Now' was one of the great things that has ever happened to me, I mean that sincerely. If you've decided to give my Snowing writing a chance because of it, I thank you profusely for it. And I truly hope you enjoy Freedom Love. **_

_**Thanks, as always, for reading. **_


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